


Ficlets, Shorts, and Random Other Things

by chibi_nightowl



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics), Super Sons (Comics), Teen Titans (Comics)
Genre: Brotherly Bonding, Family Bonding, Fantasy Prompts, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Glasses, Humor, Kids (and Parents) Say the Darndest Things, Luggage and what not to bring on vacation, M/M, Magic, Non-Explicit Sex, Officer Grayson AU, Paperwork, Pop Culture, Randomness, Romance, Short Fics, Tequila, Tumblr Prompts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2018-11-19 12:07:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 88
Words: 70,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11313063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chibi_nightowl/pseuds/chibi_nightowl
Summary: Random short stories and ficlets, as well as prompts from Tumblr.





	1. Oh Hell No

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by my own recent visit to the eye doctor...

It starts with little things. Squinting to make out street signs. Picking up things to read the small print on the labels. The icing on the cake is when Jason realizes he’s holding his books closer to his face so he can read.   
  
He's never considered himself vain, but the thought of wearing glasses galls him. They're something he thought he'd need eventually when he gets older (not that he expects that to happen in his line of work; he's already died once after all). He sucks it up and goes to the store to try on some reading glasses.   
  
They don't look bad and the lowest magnification works for what he needs. He’s not had any issues on patrol, so he continues on normally.  
  
In fact, it's not until he's meeting Alfred for their monthly lunch a few weeks later (he refuses to go to the Manor more than he absolutely has to) that the glasses come up. He puts them on without even thinking as he reads the menu.   
  
"I see you're not squinting anymore," Alfred comments blandly. His own reading glasses are perched on the end of his nose.   
  
"Nope," Jason replies, hoping that's going to be the end of it.   
  
"Have you had an eye exam recently?" he continues, not looking up from the menu.   
  
Oh, hell no. "They're just magnifiers from the pharmacy, Alfie. Nothin' fancy."  
  
"Perhaps, but it doesn't hurt to check and make sure nothing else is going on." Alfred raises an eyebrow, a sure sign he's going to force the issue in his own way.   
  
Contrary to popular opinion, Jason does know when to back down from a fight he has no chance of winning. But he still has to try. "I don't have insurance."  
  
"The exam itself is rather inexpensive when paying out of pocket.” 

Jason doesn’t say anything, but the next afternoon, he awakes to discover Alfred has texted him the name and phone number of an optometrist . He considers himself lucky the man didn’t make the appointment for him. 

Just to be petty, he waits a few days before calling, then texts the old man the date and time of the appointment. 

But Alfred has the last laugh when Jason walks into the office and sees him waiting there. “Don’t you have better things to do?” he asks somewhat crossly. 

The butler simply gives him a gimlet eye and replies, “I thought you may require some assistance with the paperwork.” 

Which, when the nice lady behind the counter hands him a clipboard full of forms, Jason finds that he does. The only doctor he sees on a regular basis is Leslie and he rarely ever has to fill out anything there (well, depending on what he goes in for; late night calls for stitches or setting broken bones while still armed to the teeth and masked don’t count). When they’re done, the lady smiles and comments that it’s nice of his grandpa to help him out. 

“Yeah, it is,” he agrees. 

The exam itself is different and Jason finds himself curious about all the little lenses and dials on the machine the doctor places over his face to figure out his prescription. He didn’t like the glaucoma test as he wasn’t expecting the puff of air being shot in each eye. Alfred talked him into getting his eyes dilated for another test (why, he wasn’t entirely sure, but Alfie said he’d pay for that one if he’d humor him this time). 

In the end, Jason walks out with a new pair of glasses, these ones much better than the magnifiers he’d been using. Those went into the donation bin at the front. 

“Okay, so that was pretty painless,” Jason comments as he puts on his sunglasses against the surprisingly bright Gotham afternoon. With his eyes still dilated, he feels like he’s walking around with a few too many beers in his system. 

“I won’t say I told you so, but thank you for humoring an old man.” 

“Yeah, yeah, you know you’re always gonna win, Alfie.” 

*****

The rest of his so-called family finds out about the glasses when Jason arrives for the one and only event of the year he doesn’t need to be dragged kicking and screaming to the Manor for. 

Alfred’s birthday. 

By common consensus, the butler is given the day off (whether he wants it or not) and his charges take care of him. Once Jason started playing nice again, he’d been put in charge by sheer benefit of the fact that he can cook. 

He enters the Manor through the kitchen entrance and finds Alfred sitting quietly with a cup of tea. It’s the calm before the storm and they both know it. 

“Would you care for a cup of tea, Master Jason?” 

“I’ll never say no when you make it, Alfie. Happy birthday.” He takes off his backpack and pulls out the carefully wrapped gift. 

Alfred beams with delight as he opens the package, revealing a hardcover copy of a book he and Jason had been discussing last month, along with a journal. “Thank you, Master Jason. Are these your annotations?” 

“Yeah. Enjoy.” 

“I certainly shall.” 

Soon enough, Alfred leaves the kitchen and the others trickle in as word spreads that he’s here. He appraises each person as they enter, trying to figure out how to best deploy them this year. 

Bruce and Dick are useless in the kitchen, so they get the chores. He doesn’t want to deal with Damian and his attitude (was he that much of a pain in the ass as a teenager?), so he goes with them. Tim, once he’s stripped of all electronic devices, isn’t half bad in the kitchen. Cass is wicked with a kitchen knife, but that’s about it. Stephanie is his all-rounder and she knows it as she smirks at him when she enters. 

“Okay, morons,” Jason announces from his place on the other side of the kitchen counter once everyone is assembled. He’s got Alfred’s chore list in front of him and off to the side are the recipes he wrote out for today’s meals. He takes out his glasses and puts them on to read off the list to everyone. “No fuck ups, got it?” 

He hands the chore list to Dick, but stops short at the strange look the man gives him. “What?” he asks warily. 

“Jay…since when do you need glasses?” Dick asks curiously. 

“Not all of us are perfect, Golden Boy,” Jason snaps, resisting the urge to take them off and hide them. 

“It just shows your poor breeding,” Damian sniffs, glaring sullenly. 

Rather than saying anything, Bruce makes a show of pulling a pair of glasses out of somewhere and putting them on. He takes the list from Dick to look it over. Damian scowls even harder. 

The others start snickering. 

Jason grins. “So much for your perfect genetics, brat.” 

“Shut up, Todd.”

 


	2. The Joys of Being an Adult

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FMLA stands for Family Medical Leave Act. More info at the end.

Tim sits across from Leslie Thompkins in her small office at the clinic she runs out of Crime Alley. He lives just a couple blocks away, so she's the closest medical provider he has. At least with this address. He has a more public one that people _expect_ someone like Tim Drake-Wayne to have. 

Dr. Thompkins looks up from the forms Tim had handed her when he walked in. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but are these FMLA forms?” 

Taking a sip from his travel mug, Tim nods. “Yes."

“Why on earth are you asking me to fill out FMLA forms?” 

“Apparently, even the acting CEO of a multinational conglomerate needs to explain to HR why he randomly misses work and uses his health as the reason for the absence.” He can’t help the amused tone. 

“Bruce never did,” the white-haired doctor counters. 

“Bruce also owns the company and ran roughshod over everyone by just being _Brucie_. I run it now and I’d prefer not to make any more enemies just by being 18 years old and sitting in a chair I earned through nepotism.” Tim sighs as he remembers the discussion cum lecture he received from the Vice President of Human Resources yesterday. It hadn’t been pretty and revealed quite a large knowledge gap that he spent most of the evening working to fill. 

Oh, the joys of being an adult and working full time. Yet another thing he silently curses Bruce for. 

“So you need me to essentially falsify FMLA forms to cover you for when you’re too injured to work.” Dr. Thompkins raises an eyebrow, a move Tim’s sure she adopted from Alfred over the many years of working together to patch up various bats and birds. 

Tim puts on his charming smile, the one Stephanie always says makes her want to smack him because she knows what’s hiding behind it. “I wouldn’t call it falsification,” he replies smoothly. “I am missing a rather important organ that helps with my immune system. And this is _Gotham_ after all. There’s a new strain of _something_ being discovered here all the time.” 

“Yes, about that…You do know that after about a year, your body will compensate for the loss of a spleen almost completely.” 

“Yes, I am aware. Perhaps you would be interested to know that my platelet levels are still rather high, even though it’s been six months since I lost it.” He’s more than capable of running his own blood tests at home. 

Dr. Thompkins frowns at the news. “That leaves you open to an increased chance for blood clots. Are you on any blood thinners?” 

Tim nods. “It’s also why I’m not out there,” he gestures to the window, “as often as I used to be. I’m still active, but focusing more on the cyber aspect of crime than the physical.” Which kind of sucks but the blood tests don’t lie. With the medicine he’s on, it takes longer for a wound to stop bleeding. He’d tested it under sterile conditions in his lab (which he has no intention of telling anyone about). 

The doctor heaves a sigh and returns her gaze to the forms in front of her. “Fine. I’ll set this up for six months and then we’ll re-evaluate. Before I do though, I want a full medical work up on you, Tim. I want to see this for myself.” 

He starts rolling up his sleeve on his left side. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't help but write this after all the crap I've had to go through because of that damned sinus infection I've been (and still am) battling. In the US, FMLA covers up to 120 hours a year of missed work due to illness, whether it's for yourself or caring for a family member. Certain conditions apply, like having to be with your employer for at least one year and having worked X number of hours, but it keeps your ass covered and employed while dealing with medical issues. If you have a good manager, they'll remind you about stuff like this (thanks boss!!) so that you don't get written up or in trouble due to excessive absences. If you have a crappy manager, then consider this a public service announcement and something to keep in mind should someone try to pull one over on you.


	3. Traveling With Bats

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by my current adventures with my suitcase...

Dick drives into the garage of Wayne Manor. As he gets out of his car, he spots Alfred and Bruce packing bags in the back of the large SUV they only use when _everyone_ is traveling together. Cass is sitting on the hood of one of Bruce’s expensive sports cars supervising. 

From the backseat, Dick grabs his backpack and the small duffle bag he’d packed earlier. He jogs over. “Hope there’s still room for these!” 

Bruce gives him a flat look as he takes the duffle. “At least you know how to pack lightly.” 

“Thanks?” Dick glances into the back of the large vehicle. It’s already full of suitcases of all sizes, some more duffle bags, and he’s pretty sure that’s a trunk. “Whoa, I thought this was a vacation, not a moving day.” 

“Tell that to your brothers.” 

Dick notices the distinct lack Cass being mentioned. He catches her eye and grins. “Let me guess. Backpack?” 

She nods. “And a gym bag. I travel lightly.” 

“So who packed the kitchen sink?” Dick asks as he leans against the car next to the small, but dangerous, woman. 

“I don’t know, but Tim and Jason both have large bags. Bruce already confiscated the sword Damian tried to bring.” 

“Did anyone think to check Jason’s bag? Ten to one odds says he’s got something in there that goes _boom_.” Dick says it teasingly, but he notices Bruce’s shoulders stiffen and he starts pulling luggage out. 

“That’s not fair, Dickiebird,” Jason grouses from where he’s sitting on the stairs leading up and into the Manor. “It’s not like I packed the RPGs.” 

“Do we even want to know what you _did_ pack?” Tim asks, idly tapping away on his phone. He’s sitting further up the steps and out of reach. 

Jason shrugs, but Dick catches his fingers twitching. It’s one of his brother’s few tells that he’s not as nonchalant as he’d like others to believe. “Shirts. Shorts, swim suit. Shaving kit, and sunblock. I remembered flip flops while I was on the way over here and stopped by the store.” 

“I’m surprised they make those in your size,” Damian finally chimes in. He’s sitting in the driver’s seat of the SUV with the door open wide. 

“Fuck you, brat. Just wait and see how big your feet get once you finally have a growth spurt.” 

Dick laughs because he gets it. Jason does have big feet, almost as big as Bruce’s. “You can get all that into one bag, Little Wing. So why’d you pack two?” 

“Knives,” Bruce announces as he finally finds the bag in question. “And half a dozen hardback novels. Jason, you can bring the books, but not the knives.” 

“It’s not like those go _boom_ ,” Jason glares at Dick. “Thanks, Big Bird. Way to be an asshole.” 

Tim’s quiet over the whole ordeal. Dick glances at Cass and she nods, a small smile teasing at her lips. “So Tim…what did you pack?” 

The exasperated sigh says it all. Bruce looks up from where he’s still removing Jason’s weaponry. “Tim?” he asks warningly. 

“Fine.” Tim stomps down the stairs and around Jason. He opens one of the backdoors to the SUV and climbs in, reaching over the back to where his bag must be. 

Dick can’t help but chuckle that Tim had managed to bury his bags behind all the others, hoping to escape any inspection. 

Tim pulls out a duffle bag no bigger than his and walks off with it rather than open it in front of everyone. 

Cass quickly intercepts him. “What’s in it?” she asks questioningly. 

Evasion is useless against Cass and everyone one knows it. Tim glowers, not happy at being caught. “Things that go _boom_.” 

Jason starts laughing, chortling with unholy glee. “See! It wasn’t me!” 

Alfred shares a despairing look with Bruce. “All right everyone, time for a weapons check. This is supposed to be a family holiday, not preparation for World War III.”

 


	4. Video Killed the Radio Star

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need some childish little ninja Damian in my life right now. Enjoy!
> 
> Happy birthday MTV! :P

Popular culture. Sometimes Damian really hates it. Or rather, he hates the lengths his family will go through to make sure his indoctrination is complete. 

He suppresses yet another sigh as he subtly tries to plot his escape from the living room of the Manor. The attempt will be futile for some time still, boxed in as he is against Richard’s side and under Stephanie’s legs on the sofa. To be fair, one leg is in a cast up to the knee and she’s using his lap and a pillow to keep it elevated, though why she couldn’t use Richard’s lap is beyond him. 

The sofa is big enough for all of them to be here without _touching_. Damian supposes it’s their way to preempt his escape (along with the rather strategically placed coffee table in front of them.) 

“Ready for another episode?” Stephanie asks brightly, fingers hovering over the remote. “We’re almost at the end of season 1!” 

This time, Damian doesn’t hide his sigh of frustration. “We’ve already watched three. Isn’t this enough for one day?” 

“It’s called _binge watching_ , Little D,” Dick chimes in as he ruffles Damian’s hair. He’s the only one who’s able to get away with it. “If this is what Steph wants to do, then so what? Besides, it’s a good show!” 

“It’s completely inane and pointless drivel,” Damian snaps back. “I have much better ways of spending my evening than sitting here _binge watching_ a teenage drama on a television network geared towards raising a generation of mindless drones.” He’s rather proud of how he used the new phrase correctly already. 

Stephanie bursts out into laughter. “Wow, someone doesn’t like MTV much, does he?” 

“No.” He scowls and crosses his arms tightly over his chest. The door on the other side of the room is so close, yet still so far away. Perhaps if he rolls over the back of the sofa and heads towards the window… 

Dick joins the young blonde woman in her laughter and places an arm over the back of the sofa, just barely brushing the back of Damian’s head as he does. Damn him. No escape that way. 

“I remember when MTV still played just music videos,” he says somewhat nostalgically. 

“Like the first video?” Stephanie asks incredulously. “I know you’re getting old, Dick, but you’re not that old.” 

“ _No_ , I’m not that old,” Dick retorts with a shake of his head. “I just remember coming home from school and turning it on sometimes to catch whatever was on.” 

“So you were the MTV2 era?” the banged up blonde continues with her teasing, though her fingers are dancing over the remote as she pulls up something else on the TV. 

“What are you talking about?” Damian finally interrupts. “Are you saying there are _two_ channels full of this nonsense?” 

“More than two,” Dick explains. “VH1, VH1 Classics…” 

“That’s MTV Classics now,” Stephanie corrects him. 

“Dammit,” Dick shakes his head. “See? This is why it’s important to keep up with pop culture.” 

“I fail to see why any of this is important.” Damian tries glaring at them both, but the effect is lost as he has to swivel his head back and forth. 

“Damian, what’s the first music video ever to play on MTV?” Stephanie asks, giving him a pointed look. 

“I don’t know and I don’t care.” 

“Well, guess what? This little bit of knowledge is a rather important piece of trivia that just about anyone in the US under the age of 40 is going to know. Do you really want to say that most of the US knows something you don’t?” 

She’s got him there. Damian scowls darkly, feeling very bitter over how the blonde woman out-maneuvered him this time. “Fine, what is it?” 

“I think she’s about to show you,” Dick replies with another ruffle of his hair. 

On the TV, Stephanie has brought up YouTube (yet another pointless waste of time, though Damian will admit to enjoying the cat videos, if only to himself). She hits play and a rather old looking music video starts playing. 

_I heard you on the wireless back in '52  
Lying awake intent on tuning in on you…_

Damian sits stoically through the entire thing, biting his cheek to keep from saying anything. 

“Well?” Dick asks once the video is over and Stephanie pauses the channel to keep the next one from playing. 

“I need to use the bathroom,” Damian replies blandly. He should have thought of this excuse sooner. 

“ _Damian_ ,” Stephanie all but whines in exasperation. “Come on, what’d you think?” 

“I think I need to vomit.” 

“You’re hopeless,” Dick says as he _finally_ moves enough for Damian to make his escape. 

“Perhaps, but I didn’t go around wearing plunging necklines and high collars,” Damian retorts as he runs from the room, getting the last word in before hits the hallway. 

Seriously, what had that man been thinking? Even he knows that disco died in the seventies.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man I feel old...I still remember when MTV played _music_. For those who are curious, the TV show Dick and Steph are trying to force Damian to watch is _Teen Wolf_.


	5. The Best Parenting T-shirt Ever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I saw this post on Tumblr and just about died laughing. Then I shared it with GoAwayOlivia and said I NEEDED to write this. She gets all the credit for enabling me, like usual.

It comes out of nowhere. Tim stares in absolute awe at Bruce because it’s so freaking _perfect_ and so unexpected from the World’s Greatest Detective. He almost suspects Dick of having a hand in this, but from the look on his face, he’s in a state of shock as well. 

Damian just stares at Jason, then back at Bruce. His little face wrinkles up like it always does when he’s confused but doesn’t want to admit it. He opens his mouth, but Dick quickly slaps a hand over it. He leans over to whisper something in his ear and the boy settles down. 

Jason glares at Bruce, lips pressed tight in a thin line that finally stops the strangled noises he’s been making from escaping. He’s pissed off, but it’s pretty obvious to everyone present it’s because he didn’t expect Bruce to actually _do something_. 

Tim’s not sure why. He started it after all, wearing those t-shirts around the Cave with the different sayings on them, each one seemingly pointed at their mentor. 

After two weeks and five different t-shirts, Tim suspects two things. First, Jason has to be having these custom made because some of them don’t exist, even on the internet (he should know, he checked because one of them he wants for himself). And second, Alfred must have had a talk with Jason along the lines of _if you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all_. 

Considering this is Jason though, Alfred really should have known he’d have found some other way to unleash his special brand of sarcasm on Bruce. 

But today…Tim reads Jason’s shirt again, but his eyes keep going back to Bruce’s t-shirt. Because somehow, he’s _won_ this particular battle. 

_Don’t be ashamed of who you are. That’s your parent’s job._

_Proud parent of a great kid that is sometimes an asshole and that’s ok._

Tim sneaks his phone out of his pocket and starts recording. He’ll capture some stills later and put them together in a frame for Alfred. Maybe Bruce. 

Dick’s eyes light up at the sight of Tim recording this. _I want that_ he mouths in his direction. 

That won’t be a problem. Bruce’s display of parenting needs to be shared. And celebrated. Because it’s not everyday Bruce renders Jason speechless.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a link to the original post for Bruce's shirt on [Tumblr](https://ninalinovna.tumblr.com/image/163608337440). Jason's shirt is a quote I found online when searching "sarcastic parenting quotes". I need to stop researching these because now I have a new list...


	6. One Tequila, Two Tequila, Three Tequila, Floor Pt 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For GoAwayOlivia...I hope you only had two! :P

Tim eyes the shot glass in front of him warily. He’s already had a martini (and a stiff one at that), so taking a shot of what he knows isn’t cheap tequila will put him right at his limit, possibly even over.

This is why he hates drinking with his friends. He’s a lightweight compared to all of them with their superpowered metabolisms. Tim may be in peak physical condition, but he’s still human.

And simply a lightweight in general when it comes to drinking, which really sucks with all the posturing he has to do as Timothy Drake-Wayne in the upper echelons of Gotham society. Bruce and Dick don’t have the same problem and Tim’s watched Jason polish off a six pack and half a bottle of vodka one night when it was either drink or pick a fight (there was the start of a third option, which shocked the crap out of Tim when Jason started putting the moves on him, but the older man soon passed out before it got too far). He’s still not sure if Jason remembers that little episode, which depresses him some because he’d have liked to explore it further.

Now that they’re no longer at each other’s throats (literally), they find they work well together and have even established a wary friendship.

But he’s letting himself be distracted from the situation in front of him. Where there’s one shot, there’s bound to be a second. And a third. And after that, Tim won’t be sure what’s going on because he has a tendency to pass out after the third.

“Come on, Tim.” Kon pushes the shot glass closer to him. “We’re not going to let you do anything stupid. Live a little.”

“I live just fine. Look at my life choices,” Tim retorts as he picks up the glass. “That’s a rhetorical statement. Don’t answer it.” He glares at Kon who looks all too eager to comment on some of said choices.

Cassie slings an arm over his shoulders and hauls him in for a rough hug. “Drink up, Tim. It’s not every day your best friends get engaged.”

Which, this is very true. And they’re all in Titans Tower, so it’s not like he can’t stagger up to his room and pass out there.

“Just make sure Rose stays out of my room,” Tim mutters as he picks up the glass and tips it back. With the engagement party going on around them, a number of former Titans are there to celebrate, including a certain white-haired former assassin who’s always had a thing for Tim (and Dick, which he found disturbing on so many levels when he’d found out).

“Promise.” Cassie grins brightly as she picks up the bottle and pours him another.

“Who knows, play your cards right, maybe someone else will be waking up next to you tomorrow morning.” Kon slaps him on the back, also grinning like a loon as Cassie starts laughing.

“You two are horrible, why am I friends with you again?” Tim blinks quickly as that all too familiar languor hits him as the alcohol enters his system. It’s always fast.

“Because we’re masochists who can put up with your shit.” Kon hands him a water bottle. “Here, drink this before the next one. We’ll let you have a breather.”

They did, which was nice and Tim enjoyed every second of it while it lasted. He’s just gearing up for the second shot when some of the original Titans arrive. There’s Dick and he’s got Roy and Kori with him. Following along behind them is Jason and Tim’s pretty sure that’s Donna he’s making eyes at.

That second shot looks pretty good right now as Tim tears his eyes away from Jason. He slams it back quickly and while his newly engaged best friends walk over to greet the new arrivals, Tim picks up the bottle and pours another before his motor control deserts him completely.

And there’s number three.

He is not jealous. Nope, no way. There’s nothing to be jealous about. Everyone knows Jason’s had a thing for Donna since he was Robin. Not like dying and coming back to life is going to change that. Hell, they even have that _in common_.

Tim’s working on pouring number four when someone grabs the bottle out of his hands. “Hey there, baby bird. Whatcha got here?” Jason drawls from over his shoulder.

“Tequila,” Tim replies carefully as he tries not to slur. “One more.” He pushes his glass towards Jason as he comes around to stand next to him at the kitchen counter.

He’s leaning heavily against said counter already (it’s the only thing keeping him upright).

Jason inspects the almost empty bottle. “You haven’t drank all this on your own, have you?” He _knows_ Tim’s a lightweight (they all do).

“Nope,” Tim grins lazily as his world starts rocking back and forth. “Kon and Cassie helped.”

“Alright then.” Jason pours another shot for him, but keeps hold of the bottle. “I’ll finish the rest of this myself.”

“…’s fine.” Tim very carefully picks up the shot glass (it takes him a moment to focus on which one is real as there are three of them; when it doubt, go for the middle one) and slams it back.

He grins at Jason, feeling very pleased with himself. The taller man takes a swig right out of the bottle as he watches Tim closely.

“How many?” he asks, not taking his eyes off him.

They’re really pretty eyes. Tim could stare at them all day. And night. And that was a question. “Ummm…”

“That’s what I thought.” Jason takes another drink from the bottle and smirks.

Oh, that _smirk_. It’s the one that says Jason’s laughing at you but is also thinking about doing something to make your life miserable.

Tim’s knees wobble and he grabs at the counter as he hears a roar in his ears. “I think…I think I’m done.”

“Yeah, that’s a given.”

Here comes the tunnel vision signalling he's about to pass out. The last thing Tim sees as his knees give out completely is Jason reaching for him, a look of concern replacing the smirk on his face.

 


	7. One Tequila, Two Tequila, Three Tequila, Floor Pt 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally finished the next part in this! And because this is me and I can't write concisely to save my life sometimes, there are two more parts after this. 
> 
> Also, I reordered the chapters, so these will all be together rather than having you guys play Where's Waldo trying to find them.

“Shit,” Jason mutters under his breath as he catches Tim before he hits the floor while managing to not lose his grip on the tequila bottle. “How many have you had, baby bird?” 

Tim doesn’t answer. He’s passed out. 

“Well, fuck.” Jason tips back the rest of the bottle to finish it off and sets it down on the counter. There really wasn’t much left and he suspects the young man draped over his other arm had more than he said he did. 

The blonde Wonder-chick wanders back over, blue eyes widening as she sees Tim. “Already? He only had two shots!” 

“Two? I saw him pouring something when I got here, then I poured the last one,” he replies, shifting Tim’s dead weight around to sling him up and over his shoulder. He keeps a steadying hand over his waist. 

“Four?” Cassie shakes her head and stares in amazement at Tim. “He had one of the martinis Bart made before Kon and I started doing shots with him.” 

“A martini made by a speedster? Bet those are pretty stiff.” Jason gestures to Tim. “Where should I drop his drunk ass off?” 

“He’s got a room here still.” She gives him a pointed look. “You should remember where it is.” 

Jason ruefully rubs the back of his head with his free hand. It had been several years, but he still remembers the first time he tried to kill Tim like it was yesterday, even with the fog of madness from the Lazarus Pit having finally lifted. “Yeah…I do. Sorry about that.” 

The young woman shrugs. “The Lazarus Pit is no laughing matter. Tim says he’s forgiven you for it.” 

He can read between the lines. He’s a Bat, no matter how much he may wish otherwise sometimes. “We both know he makes dumbass decisions sometimes. Case in point.” Jason slaps the back of Tim’s thighs from where they dangle over his broad shoulder. 

Cassie laughs, her bright red lips curling up to reveal perfect white teeth. She’s gorgeous like all the Wonder-chicks are, but Jason would still rip his heart out and hand it to Donna Troy if she so much as asked. Not that she ever would, he knows that (and still silently curses that annoying as hell Green Lantern Kyle Rayner for having managed to land a date with her, then screw it up), but he still can’t help but see her as perfect. 

Or rather, as the perfect woman. 

The perfect guy for him is currently drunk and passed out over his shoulder, softly snoring from the sounds drifting up behind him. Not that Jason has a chance in hell there either. Trying to kill a person a few times doesn’t exactly lead to the start of a healthy relationship, even if he has apologized for it (he’d had to do it twice as the first time he’d been drunk and maudlin; once he sobered up, he did it again just in case Tim hadn’t believed him). 

This is why none of his relationships last. Carrying a torch for two people who won’t ever see him as anything but a thug (the Robin who failed, the Robin who _died_ ) is exhausting as no one will ever live up to them, male or female. 

“You know…” Cassie says slowly, assessingly as her blue eyes almost seem to see right through him. “When Tim drinks that much, he’s probably going to get sick when he wakes up. It wouldn’t be a bad idea if someone stayed with him to make sure he doesn’t choke.” 

Jason arches an eyebrow, a move he totally stole from Alfred and isn’t ashamed to admit it. “That so? And how long is he usually out for?” 

“A few hours. He gets drunk fast, but it passes through him almost as quickly.” She walks around the counter and bends over to grab something from the cooler. “Here,” she says and tosses him a water bottle, which Jason easily catches in his free hand. “Give that to him when he wakes up.” 

So this is how Jason finds himself in Tim’s room in Titan’s Tower rather than downstairs partying with everyone else. Thinking back on it, Cassie was pretty sly in getting him up here and out of the way. After all, who wants the Red Hood at an engagement party, even if he did show up with a bunch of the original Titans? But, as he settles back in the surprisingly comfortable desk chair and puts his feet up, he can’t find it in himself to care. He’d gotten to see Donna earlier and now he’s babysitting Tim. 

He takes out a beat up paperback from an inner pocket of his jacket and starts reading. All in all, not a bad night for him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You might get lucky and see more tomorrow!


	8. One Tequila, Two Tequila, Three Tequila, Floor Pt 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for Timmy to wake up!

Tim wakes up slowly. His head is pounding and from the churning in his stomach, something else is making its presence known. 

Bathroom. He needs to get there _now_. 

He quickly rolls off his bed (too fast, ow, fuck, _too fast_ ) and staggers as his knees buckle. Someone catches him by the arm and hauls him upright. 

“Let’s go. I am not cleaning puke off your carpet.” 

The voice is familiar, but Tim doesn’t have the energy to place it as he’s almost dragged across the room. Bright lights sear his eyes, even shut tight as they are and he cries out, but those are his knees hitting the tile, his hands feeling cool porcelain and… 

And there’s the acrid bile and other things coming up his esophagus and burning the back of his throat. He retches into the toilet, gasping for air. Hot tears stream down his face. 

He’s never drinking again. It’s a hollow vow and he knows it. 

There’s a cool hand on his forehead, holding back his overly long bangs. “Hey, look at that. You made it in time.” 

Now that the worst of the vomiting is over, higher brain functions are starting to resume. That’s not Kon. Not Dick. It’s… 

Jason. 

Shit. Shit. Shitty, _shit_. 

Tim moans, his face still hidden by the bowl of the toilet. He’s going to stay here and hide for a while. Maybe Jason will get bored and leave him be. 

No such luck as Jason interprets the moan as him gearing up for round two. “Let’s get rid of this and reset.” He flushes the toilet. 

Which, not a bad idea as his stomach lurches again and he heaves some more, this time mostly bile as he’d done a pretty thorough job the first go-around of emptying it. 

When he’s done, Tim collapses next to the toilet, eyes still shut tight. The hand disappears, but there’s the sound of the toilet flushing again and then the sound of running water in the sink. A cool washcloth is then being used gently on his face, wiping up the mess. 

“Such a lightweight. Why were you drinkin’ like that, baby bird?” 

Tim doesn’t answer and instead leans into the touch. He can get away with it right now. 

The washcloth is gone and Tim feels the rim of a glass prodding at his lips. “Rinse your mouth out. Probably tastes like something died in there. And it wasn’t me.” 

Only Jason thinks those jokes are funny. 

He obediently opens his mouth and swishes. There’s some mouthwash in there, the burning mint diluted by some water. He spits back into the glass. 

“Good job. Think you can handle some water?” 

The thought of anything else hitting his stomach right now has Tim moaning and curling up into a little ball on the tile floor. His head hits the rim of his shower stall. A shower sounds good. A shower sounds wonderful right now. A shower means Jason will leave the bathroom and let him wallow around in misery and embarrassment. 

Tim forces his body up into a sitting position and finally opens his eyes a crack to reach out to the shower door and try to slide it open. 

“A shower? Really? Can you even stand?” Jason sounds incredulous, which Tim supposes he has every right to. He’s not able to stand right now. Nope. No way. 

“I can sit,” Tim slurs out slowly. 

Jason huffs a sigh. “Fine.” He starts tugging at Tim’s clothes. 

Tim bats his hands away weakly. “What are you doing?” 

“Did you think I was gonna let you shower in jeans and a hoodie? Dumbass.” 

Oh. Well. In that case… Tim drops his hands and waits. Jason makes quick work of his sweatshirt, jeans, and t-shirt. His hands feel amazing on his body, even if they’re just efficiently stripping him down. He leaves him in his boxers. His shoes and socks must have been removed while he was passed out. 

That thought bears another moment’s worth of examination. How long has Jason been here? Tim remembers drinking with him downstairs and then…then nothing. 

He smells a rat. A rat in the shape of Cassie or Kon, he’ll find out which one. Both knew of his long time crush on Jason. This is a set up. 

But those are Jason’s hands on his body helping him up and into his shower. His hands keeping him upright as lukewarm water hits his bare chest. “Hotter or colder, Timmers?” his voice whispers in his ear. 

“Just right,” he mutters. 

That’s Jason’s body behind him. Bare skin against his back. 

Wait, what? 

Tim tries to lurch forward, but only gets a face full of water for his efforts. 

Jason chuckles. “Did you think I was going to leave you in here to face plant all by your lonesome? I don’t think your superfriends would like that very much.” 

Tim’s still stuck on the thought that Jason’s standing in the shower with him without his shirt on. What _else_ did he take off? 

“Just my shirt, though I’m starting to think I should have taken off my pants. Wet denim sucks. What a night to go commando.” Jason laughs as he easily manhandles Tim under the water. 

And this is Tim’s brain locking up completely as he imagines Jason standing behind him slowly popping open the button on his jeans and sliding the zipper down. 

Yeah, that’s a squeak. There goes his man-card. 

There’s another chuckle behind him, a warm breath teasing at his ear. “Drunk words are sober thoughts, Timmy. Wonder Chick #3 said alcohol passes right through you once you’ve had a chance to sleep it off, so how sober are you?” 

“Not sober enough,” he rasps out. 

“Fair enough. I’d much rather have this conversation when you’re not vocalizing at least half your thoughts, entertaining as it is.” 

He’s been _what?_ Oh shit. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuckity, fuck. 

Tim groans and goes limp, forgetting that Jason’s the only thing keeping him upright at the moment as he stumbles and almost drops the deadweight. 

“And you guys call _me_ the drama queen. Get your head on straight again and you’ll see this isn’t going to turn out as badly as you’re expecting.” There’s a hopeful note to Jason’s voice that has Tim paying attention. 

Really now? 

“I want my water.” 

“Good. Sit here and I’ll get it.” Jason helps Tim to the shower floor and steps out. 

Through the slightly foggy doors, Tim watches him dry off (that’s _his towel_ ). Maybe he’ll get lucky and he’ll leave the shirt off…He’s never that lucky, but he can _hope_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last part will be in a couple days.


	9. One Tequila, Two Tequila, Three Tequila, Floor Pt 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For GoAwayOlivia...smile dear!

Jason decides two things very quickly after Tim wakes up from his nap.

First, he’s a hilarious drunk. He kinda knew this already, but the baby bird’s never let himself get that far gone in his presence before. Probably because of the second thing, which is that his brain-to-mouth filter is _gone_.

Unfiltered Tim Drake quite possibly the best thing since the chilidog.

But as he gets the young man in the shower, that lack of filter is revealing a few rather interesting pieces of information.

Tim likes being touched by him. Blondie downstairs set them up. Tim’s blush extends all the way down the back of his neck when he’s embarrassed. And he makes the most adorable squeak.

Most people think the Red Hood is a keg of gunpowder waiting for the right spark to set him off, but he’s a hell of a lot smarter than that. He’s a former Robin and being dumb isn’t part of the job description. So when Jason puts together all the clues, he’s surprised by what he comes up with.

“Drunk words are sober thought, Timmy,” he breathes into Tim’s ear. He’s pretty certain the younger bird is in no condition to handle a serious conversation right now, but he has to check.

So this is how he finds himself drying off with Tim’s towel and cursing the world that he really did go commando tonight as wet denim _chafes._ Still, Tim blocked most of the water; it’s only when he helped him sit that he got his ass wet. He should have rolled up the cuffs though.

Sue him. Jason had his arms full of mostly naked Tim at the time and wasn’t thinking clearly.

He grabs the water bottle from the bathroom counter and opens the shower door to hand it to Tim.

“Hey,” Jason says as he kneels outside the stall, knocking the bottle lightly against Tim’s shoulder to get his attention when words don’t seem to do it. “Unless you’re planning to drink shower water…”

No judging if he has. God knows he’s done it while recovering from one of his periodic benders. Sometimes the nightmares are too much to handle and it’s easier to escape down the rabbit hole than it is to stay awake for three days straight and seeing hallucinations of his dreams.

Tim takes the water, disrupting the train ride Jason’s thoughts were heading in. He raises his head enough to take a drink and makes a face when he realizes the cap is still on.

“You really don’t have any higher brain function right now, do you?” Jason teases as he uncaps the water for him.

“Fuck you,” Tim mutters and sips carefully.

“Someone’s got a potty mouth when he’s hungover.”

He isn’t graced with a reply as Tim pales even more as the water hits his stomach. Reaching out, Jason runs a hand over Tim’s head, carefully threading his fingers through the damp strands. “Just breathe. Take it slow,” he says low and soothingly. “You’re not going to make a mess if you puke again. I’m not judging you. I’ve been in your shoes before.”

Tim’s eyes are shut tight and his body shudders as he tries to keep it down.

“Let it out.” Jason helps him lean forward.

A moment later, Tim spews more bile across the tile. He immediately raises his head into the shower spray. He shudders one more time and leans back against Jason’s arm. Sighing, he opens his eyes. “I think I’m done.”

“Want to try the water again?”

Tim shakes his head, but leans forward on his own to open his mouth to the shower spray and rinse it out. He sighs and hangs his head, the water beating down his overly long mop of black hair.

“You must think I’m pretty pathetic.” Jason just makes out the words over the running water.

“What part of _I’ve been in your shoes_ didn’t you understand?”

“Yeah, but…”

Jason cuts off whatever Tim’s about to say. “I _get it_ , Replacement. It’s a control thing for you. All this, needing to be taken care of, is a lack of control. I already said I’m not judgin’. You ready to get out and dry off?”

There’s a sliver of blue peeking out from under Tim’s bangs, assessing him, weighing him, taking him apart. It’s how he always feels under Tim’s gaze.

“Yeah.”

He helps Tim stand and step out of the shower. Dropping the towel on his head, Jason reaches into the stall to turn off the water. When he turns around, Tim’s managed to ditch his sodden boxers and is wrapping the towel securely around his waist.

That was fast.

Jason grabs his shirt and puts it back on, trying to ignore the blue eyes watching him so closely. Instead, once he’s done tugging it down over his chest, he grabs the water bottle again. “Small sips. You know you need it.”

“Thanks, Jason.”

They exit the bathroom and head back into the dimness of Tim’s bedroom, the only light being the desk light he’d eventually turned on as day faded into twilight outside the Tower. Jason resumes his seat at the desk.

Tim sits cautiously on the bed and uncaps his water. He takes a few small sips, visibly bracing himself each time he does. But the water stays down, which is good.

“Look, we don’t have talk about this now,” Jason starts. “You’re hungover and obviously aren’t thinking too clearly.”

“Drunk words are sober thoughts,” Tim repeats what he’d whispered to him earlier. “And knowing me, I won’t say them otherwise.”

Blue eyes meet his own.

“I’ve liked you for way too long, Jason. You were still Robin when I started. That crush died when you did, but it came back when you started working with me instead of trying to kill me.”

Harsh words, but true nonetheless. They take away from the jubilation he feels over Tim admitting he _likes_ him. “It was around that same time for me too,” Jason admits. “When I could finally see you for you instead of as the Pretender."

He’s already apologized for trying to kill Tim. He’ll probably keep doing it, but now’s not the moment for another one.

“So what happens now?” Tim asks, taking another sip of water.

“You sober up, and if, knowing what you know now, you want to do something about it, give me a call when you get back to Gotham. We’ll find a little place that has good coffee _and_ tea, and play it by ear.” It’s not time yet for anything more.

Tim smiles, small and slightly crooked. “I like that idea. But I’m more sober now than I was before, so how does tomorrow afternoon sound?”

Jason thinks he’s about to get whiplash as how fast Tim’s coming around. But he’s wanted this for a long time. “Sounds great to me.”

“Great. Give me a few minutes to get dressed and we can leave.” Tim gets up and heads to his closet, already steadier on his feet than he was before.

Wait, what? “Uh, why?”

“Because I need you to fly the Batplane home. I can’t plot at Kon and Cassie’s demise while I’m here.”

Jason grins. “You had me at flying the Batplane.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end! I probably should have pulled this out and put it into it's own little fic, but whatever. More randomness next time!


	10. In My Heart (In Your Pants)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This happened all because of a comment GoAwayOlivia made this morning. I blame her. Completely.

Tim hates grocery shopping, mostly because he doesn’t have the time to cook what he buys and inevitably forgets he went to the store in the first place. It had gotten better when he and Jason moved in together, but it’s still pretty rare for him to do anything in the kitchen besides make coffee and toast.   
  
So how he found himself trailing after Jason in Costco of all places confuses the daylights out of him.   
  
Although that could be the lack of coffee. Jason only let him have one cup before dragging him out the door.   
  
Stupid boyfriend.  
  
Tim trails after him, absently dodging between mothers on missions and shopping carts piled so high it’s a surprise anyone’s able to see around them. Bulk shopping doesn’t make sense for the two of them, but Jason gets these odd urges to stockpile certain things (like paper goods and toothpaste) so he just rolls with it.   
  
The samples are good. Tim chews on a piece of sausage Jason hands to him. “Seriously, who needs to pay for lunch when they can just come here?”   
  
“Did you forget the membership fee?” Jason comments in return as he deftly maneuvers his own cart through the crowd.   
  
“It pays for itself after a few months of this.”   
  
“So healthy.”  
  
Tim rolls his eyes. “Says the man with five pounds of ground beef, spinach ravioli, and three boxes of waffles in his cart.”  
  
“I don’t see you complainin’ about what goes in your mouth.” Jason grins unrepentantly.   
  
The look Tim gives him in reply says it all.   
  
“Fine, I’ll get a bag of that mixed salad you like.”  
  
While Jason braves the frigid produce section, Tim wanders around. Something catches his eye and he makes his way through the crowd.   
  
He stops abruptly, mouth watering.   
  
The display was full of some of the most decadent candy apples he’s seen since...well...last year. Bright red apples covered in caramel, chocolate, nuts, even one with sprinkles. He feels like a kid in a candy store.   
  
A tall figure leans over his shoulder, whispering in his ear. “See somethin’ ya like, Timmy?”  
  
He nods. He’s always had a thing for candy apples. Steph teases him every fall with his favorite treat. It’s the fastest way besides a pumpkin spice latte to convince him to do anything.   
  
This is the first time Jason’s been in the picture though to see his reaction.   
  
“How many we gettin’?”  
  
Tim tears his eyes from the display to glance at his boyfriend. He’s looking way too amused. “Two caramel with nuts.”   
  
“Get me that peanut butter one with the nuts.” Jason presses a kiss into his temple and walks off, not even bothering to hide his laugher.   
  
Nice to know he amuses him so much.   
  
Tim ends up with four candy apples. The one with sprinkles screams Dick.   
  
Later that night, Tim’s sprawled on the sofa, resting comfortably between Jason’s legs, his head laying against his muscled chest. He takes a bite of the apple Jason is carefully feeding him.   
  
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen this side of you before.” His teal eyes crinkle with suppressed laughter.   
  
Tim flips him off, the gesture as languid as the rest of him. “I’m comfy.”   
  
“I’ll say. According to my sources, the occasional candy apple is enough to get you to do pretty much anything.”   
  
“Steph lies.” Tim cranes his neck to look up at Jason. “I have some standards.”  
  
The bigger man manages to lean down and kiss the tip of Tim’s nose. “Yeah? Like what?”  
  
Tim shifts, purposefully rubbing against the soft fabric of Jason’s pajama pants. He feels a slight twitch of interest against his backside. “If you feed me the rest of that apple, I’ll let you in my pants.”  
  
He arches slightly, and lets his hands drop to his thighs, tightening the fabric of his sleep pants to emphasize his own interest.   
  
A piece of apple teases at his lips.   
  
“Eat up, Timmy.”


	11. Midnight Cravings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No one is allowed to blame me if you get hungry after reading this.

“Tater tots. Crispy, but not overdone. Salted and plenty of ketchup.” Tim stares up at the ceiling, his voice taking on a dreamy quality as he thinks about food. At least he thinks it’s the ceiling. He’s blindfolded, so it’s hard to tell.

“Mmmm…yum.” Dick hums in agreement. “Corndogs. Not the kind outta the box, but where the hotdog is on the stick and it has to be dipped into the batter first before it hits the fryer.”

“Wasn’t there a place in the mall that used to do that?”

“Yeah, but they closed down awhile back.” The disappointment is clear enough. “Man, I’m starving.”

“Will you two shut the fuck up?” Jason all but snaps as he lies trussed up between the two of them. “You don’t even know what starvin’ _is_.”

“We’re just passing time, Hood.” Tim can’t see the grin on Dick’s face, but he can imagine it well enough. “It’s not like we have anything better to do right now.”

The growl could probably be heard from outside the reinforced door to the small room where the three former Robins are locked away, each one carefully tied up so that they couldn’t move and couldn’t reach out to each other to help. Tim suspects the room had been designed to hold one of them, not the _three_ that had somehow been captured.

Damian is going to have a field day over how Nightwing, Red Hood, and Red Robin all blundered into the same trap. In their defense, they had been fighting Hood at the time, which requires a _lot_ of attention.

“So what’s your favorite fried food, Hood?” Tim prods, being the asshole for once because _he can_.

Jason’s quiet for a little too long before he grumbles a response. “Fried chicken. Southern style, with that buttermilk batter and some hot sauce.”

“Ohhh, _yummy_ ,” Dick approves.

Tim nods in agreement, even though neither of the men can see it. “Do you like hush puppies?” he asks instead.

“Only when they’re done right,” Jason replies, his reluctance over being dragged into this little game rather obvious.

“Yeah, me too.”

“I think Hood wins that round.”

“Fuck off, ‘wing. I’m not playin’ your stupid game.”

It’s quiet for a minute before Dick asks the next question. “What’s your favorite street food?”

If Jason’s growl from earlier wasn’t heard through the reinforced door, his roar of frustration certainly was. “Shut the _fuck_ _up_!”

“I think we know what Hood’s favorite word is, Nightwing.” Tim laughs along with Dick and wriggles his arms some more as the ropes he’s slowly been working on over the last hour start to loosen. They’re all master escape artists and he’s pretty sure the others are in about the same state he is. It won’t be long now before one of them is free. He hopes it’s not Jason as he’s more likely to leave him and Dick laying there defenseless while he tries to bust down the door.

“Hey, when this is all done and over with, want to get a pizza?” Dick asks brightly.

“Get bent.”

“I know this great place over on 40th and Sheldon,” he keeps going over Jason’s continued growls.

The growls stop. “Is that the one with the spumoni?”

Tim snorts and rolls his eyes as the knots finally loosen. Trust Jason’s love of Neapolitan ice cream in it’s many forms to get through his perpetual grouchiness.

 


	12. Lights! Camera! Action!

“Do our lives ever feel like we’re living in an action movie?” Tim asks, idly twirling a pen around his fingers as he stares at the computer screen in front of him. 

Stephanie stops her stretches on the workout mats to gape. “You’re kidding, right?” 

“No, really. All we need is proper lighting and a camera and we could probably add action hero to our resumes.” He doesn’t sound serious at all, random thoughts filling the blank space as they prepare for patrol, but Steph can’t help but wonder. She knows Tim and while she doesn’t always agree with the way his mind works, she does know when idle thoughts are masking a desire for something else. 

In this case, he’s bored and wants to be entertained. 

“Become the newest YouTube sensations?” she teases as she approaches and leans on the back of his chair. They’re in his cave, so everything is sleek and modern as opposed to dark and gloomy like the main cave Tim rarely works out of now. 

Tim grins up at her. “When was the last time we annoyed Bruce?” 

“Last month, I think.” She winks down at him. 

“It’s definitely time then.” 

****

In the end, they have to recruit Dick to help them out because while Stephanie is rather apt at using her selfie stick and a GoPro, she’s not so great at getting the lighting right while juggling those. There’s only so much brightening Tim can do in what they jokingly call “post production”. 

“So let me get this straight,” Dick says, hands on hips as he listens to their proposal a couple nights later on an empty rooftop. “You want to post videos of yourselves doing insane things online for the world to see because you want to be action heroes.” 

Tim shrugs as he and Steph share a glance. It sounds ridiculous when he puts it that way, but… “Yeah. We already live in an action movie, so why not show Hollywood how to get it right?” 

Dick pinches the bridge of his nose. This is not what he thought he was meeting them here for. “Do I even want to know what Bruce did to piss one or both of you off this time?” 

“Nothing, for now,” Stephanie replies with a grin. “But I’m sure that’ll change soon enough.” It’s Bruce, he always manages to get under someone’s skin accidently on purpose. 

“C’mon, Dick,” Tim cajoles his brother. “Let’s show the world what _Nightwingin’ it_ really means.” 

Dick gazes levelly back and forth between the two of them. It’s not often that Tim is playful like this anymore, let alone eager to work with him on something that’s not case related. And Stephanie? Well, if there’s one person who can get Tim out of his shell these days, it’s her. 

“Fine. What do I need to do?” 

*****

A week later, Bruce walks into Tim’s office at WE carrying a tablet and wearing one of his vapid smiles as he talks to his assistant. Tim watches warily because this assistant is new and he had said he didn’t want to be disturbed. He’ll give the man props for trying, but sometimes there’s simply no stopping Hurricane Brucie. 

He has a feeling he knows why the man is here. The short video he and Steph had made of Dick last week got posted the night before and is already a sensation in Gotham. Even with the editing Tim did to conceal Dick’s face more than the usual domino mask does, there’s no mistaking his uniform and the way the man moves. 

Jason has already sent him a text asking when his turn is. 

“Tim!” Bruce greets him cheerfully for the sake of the still watching assistant. “I know you’re busy, but you’ve simply _got_ to see this!” 

Brucie never ceases to send a shiver down Tim’s spine. He waves off the assistant and the door closes firmly. Just as fast, Brucie disappears and leaves a cross between Bruce and Batman in his wake. 

“What is it?” he asks, accepting the tablet he’s handed. 

“You know what it is,” Bruce all but growls. He stands before his desk looming large with his arms crossed over his muscled chest. 

“Do I?” Tim asks innocently as he taps at the screen to bring up the video. It’s paused about halfway through on an amazing shot he caught of Dick midway through a basic takedown. Nothing fancy or distinctive, but it’s all clean movement and moves so smooth they could be silk. At the end, Dick is standing in profile to the camera and casually flips his hair back and out of his eyes, the electric blue of his fingerstripes catching the light as he follows through with running his fingers through it. 

He pauses it here because the rest of it shows Dick walking away, a purely gratuitous angle that he already knows has Gotham buzzing over whose ass could be that spectacular. 

Stephanie sent him a link to one of the Gotham morning news shows talking about. 

“Nice cinematography,” Tim says, handing the tablet back to Bruce. “They definitely got Nightwing at his best.” 

His favorite shot though is Dick throwing himself off a building and swinging away into the night. No one even comes close to how stunning he looks while air-born, not even those who can actually fly. 

“They did,” Bruce agrees quietly. “I wonder who could have got that close to him without his being aware of the camera.” His eyes narrow. “Or with a light.” 

Tim folds his hands and rests them on his desk. “Have you asked him?” 

“He’s not answering his phone.” 

“Well, until you get a hold of him, I guess you’ll just have to wait for answers.” There’s a good chance Bruce will drive all the way to New York to speak with Dick in person. He’d left the night before on the excuse of a case just to avoid Gotham for a few days. 

“Tim,” Bruce says warningly as his face pinches up, a clear indication he’s about to try parenting him for a change. 

That never ends well for anyone. “Bruce, do you remember what happened the last time you started a conversation with me in that tone of voice?” The man blinks quickly and Tim can just see him trying to find that particular memory. “Let me save you the time. It ended with you making a $25,000 donation to the Gotham Animal Welfare League and getting your face plastered all over their next big adoption campaign.” 

It also resulted in a long conversation with Damian over why he couldn’t bring home a box of kittens. 

Bruce’s mouth snaps shut. 

“Is there anything else you want to talk about? I’ve got a lunch meeting to get to.” Tim makes a show at looking at the time and standing, shrugging his suit jacket on in the process. He’s got no such meeting set up, but unless Bruce looked at his calendar before coming in, he wouldn’t know this. 

For a change, Bruce drops it. “Just…make sure it’s not up there forever.” 

Tim flashes him a grin on his way out the door. “Why not? I think it just screams for a sequel.”


	13. Food Crimes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I saw an article online about crimes against food and I just could. not. stop. myself at all from writing this.

Tim knows his life is a mess. Most of the time, he doesn’t care. Other times though, he takes gross advantage of it because reactions like this are just the best thing ever and fully makes up for it. 

Case in point. It’s a Titan’s week (started as a weekend and is now dragging out into a full week, not that anyone is complaining here because the Tower feels like _home_ so much more than home does sometimes). The girls have wandered off somewhere and Bart is on pizza duty, so that leaves Kon and Tim to their devices until food arrives. 

He's hungry though, so he does what he normally does when he’s hungry and waiting for pizza. He finds a snack. Apparently, Kon is taking offense at how he’s eating it. 

Tim takes another bite from his string cheese while Kon’s face does that strange thing it does when he’s trying not to stare but he can’t stop. There’s even the bonus laugh he’s trying to contain. 

“Dude, you know that’s string cheese, right?” 

“Yeah.” Tim takes another bite and pointedly drops his gaze to his tablet. 

“You’re supposed to peel it and eat it in, you know, strings.”

“I need two hands for that. This is easier.” He purposefully swipes at the screen.

In the reflection of his carefully angled tablet, Tim watches as Kon goes through the stages of acceptance when it comes to dealing with his antics. He should really know better at this stage in their friendship and realize he’s being played. 

He takes another bite and grins when Kon groans and waves his hands in the air. “Dude! It’s _string cheese_. Food you can actually play with. Stop being all Batman for once in your life and eat it right!” 

Tim hangs his head over the back of the chair and locks eyes with his best friend. He slowly, purposefully, places the last bite to his mouth. “Who says I’m not playing with my food?” 

Kon’s shouts are music to his ears. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Tim stares into the depths of his pantry. He needs to go grocery shopping. He really does. But it’s late (early, who knows anymore) and he’s hungry _now_. The pasta is already boiling away on his stove, but the jar of spaghetti sauce he could have sworn is in here is annoyingly absent. 

He pouts as he goes to the fridge. Desperate times call for desperate measures. 

Of course, it’s just as Tim sits down on his sofa and is about to hit play on his paused movie that there’s a knock on his living room window. A moment later, Jason is entering the room. This is both good and bad because while this brother will at least close the window behind him, he’s also a notorious food snob and often bemoans Tim’s crimes against it. 

Case in point, the ketchup drenched penne pasta he’s about to take a bite of. There’s no way to hide it, not before Jason spots it. 

Three. Two. One. “What the fuck is _that?_ ” 

Tim cradles his bowl close to his chest. “Food.” 

“I see that. What did you do to it?” Jason looms over him. Tim glances up to see that he’s totally wearing his judgy face. 

“I need to go grocery shopping,” he tries, but his brother laughs at that. 

“You always need to go grocery shopping. You’re out of spaghetti sauce, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Tim glares sullenly. 

But then Jason does something that surprises him. He flops down next to him and steals his fork, eating the red soaked noodles. “I haven’t had this in years,” he says conspiratorially. 

Tim’s brain takes a moment to reboot. “What?” 

“Yeah. Before Alfred came along and expanded my palette, I had ketchup on my spaghetti more often than sauce. I used to grab handfuls of ketchup packets from fast food joints when I was a kid.” 

“Oh.” It’s rare that Jason mentions his childhood in any detail to them. This is another little incident that gets stored away in Tim’s mental _Jason Todd, the younger years_ file. He holds out the bowl. “Want some? I got more in the kitchen.” 

Jason gives him an odd look, but accepts the bowl. He takes another bite and makes a face. “This is crap.” He gets up, and disappears into the kitchen, along with Tim’s bowl. 

Tim relaxes into the overstuffed cushions of his sofa and hits play on the remote. Whatever Jason comes up with is bound to be better than that. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dishes are the bane of Tim’s existence. He really should be on top of something so simple, but between his day job and his night job, not to mention the overall job of being Tim Drake, something has to give. Household chores are the first to go. 

But once a month, he purposefully schedules a day where he _gets shit done_ and today is the day. His dishwasher gurgles along happily, already full and doing its job, but there’s still quite an amassed assortment of coffee mugs and glasses for a second load. 

Really, if he didn’t have so many dishes, he wouldn’t be in this mess. Fewer dishes means he would have to wash them more often. Who keeps buying him more plates and cups? 

Oh right. He does. 

Tim groans at that and rummages under the kitchen sink for dish soap. He’s thirsty and for once in his life, coffee does not sound appealing. He chuckles at that because if his family ever hears him admit that out loud, they’d probably having him committed or start running the protocols for a hostile force taking over his body. 

Probably the latter actually. 

There’s no soap. Plenty of dishwasher pods, but no dish soap. Tim sighs and adds it to his shopping list. 

He’s still thirsty. Opening the fridge, Tim scowls as the only drinkable beverage that greats him is his almond milk that he uses for his cereal. Dick’s not the only one who eats it, but at least his is protein fortified granola and bran flakes rather than the sugary cardboard crap his brother eats. 

Rather than be a complete barbarian, Tim pours some milk into a bowl and drinks from there. Selina would be so proud. 

There’s a knock at the front door and before he has a chance to answer it, Dick comes strolling in. 

Lowering the bowl, Tim shoots a mock glare at the man. “The door was locked.” 

He waves off the comment. “Locks are suggestions.” 

“Sounds like something Selina would say.” 

“Not going to argue there.” Dick looks around and takes in the half clean kitchen. “Monthly chore day?” 

Tim laughs and sets down his half empty bowl on his kitchen table. “You really are the world’s second greatest detective.” 

“Shhh, don’t tell Bruce, but I think you’re about to nudge him out of number one.” Dick winks at him. “I’m okay with being number three.” 

“Give me a few more years, then we’ll see. Can I get you anything?” Tim asks, remembering his manners. “Kinda caught me between grocery runs.” 

Dick gestures to the bowl. “I’m always game for cereal if you have it.” 

Of course he is. Tim grabs another clean bowl from his cupboard (these he has plenty of, for some reason) and some spoons. Dick has already found the cereal, so he collects the milk and joins him at the mostly clean table. His bowl is still half full of almond milk when he pours in the cereal. “So, what brings you over here…?” he trails off as he spots the look of abject horror on his brother’s face. “Dick?” 

Dick is looking at him like he has two heads. Tim not-so-absently rubs the back of his neck to double check. He and the Titans had a run in with some strange creature a couple weeks ago and while everyone checked out fine afterwards, a delayed reaction is not outside the realm of possibility. 

Tim sets the box down. “Dick?” he tries again. 

“Did you just?” The oldest Robin points at his bowl. 

He still doesn’t get it, but this doesn’t seem to be something life threatening, so he picks up his spoon. “I poured cereal into a bowl,” Tim replies mildly and takes a bite. 

“With the milk already in it.” Dick sounds a bit shocky over that fact. 

“So?” Tim shrugs. “I was drinking out of it before you got here.” 

“Tiiimmm,” Dick all but whines. “You pour the cereal into the bowl _first_ and _then_ you pour in the milk. There’s a natural order to these things and you just…just…” 

“Ignore natural order for the sake of practicality and not wasting my milk?” Tim watches in interest as his blasé approach to things sinks in. Dick has such an expressive face when he’s relaxed and around people he trusts. This kind of reminds him of Kon and the string cheese incident. 

Dick heaves an overly dramatic sigh. “Well, when you put it that way…” 

“It still tastes the same.” 

“And people call me the walking disaster.” Dick shakes his head at that. 

“Well, you did teach me how to fix leaky bathroom pipes. And how to weather strip a window properly. Oh, and how to do my laundry. I’d hardly call that a disaster.” Tim’s life may be a mess, but most of his survival skills were taught to him by the man sitting across from him. The main difference between them is that Dick chooses to play the part of the natural disaster while Tim just is. 

“Did I ever tell you the story about Bruce and the tuna salad sandwich?” 

Tim’s eyes widen in amazement. “I thought it was just me he’s subjected those monstrosities to.” 

Chore day soon becomes much more enjoyable as Dick shares tales of Bruce and his massive shortcomings at anything resembling a normal life. At the end of the day, his apartment is not only clean enough to pass an Alfred inspection, but Tim has a much greater appreciation for his own life and the realization that he’s not as much of a mess as he thought.

 


	14. Little Hood and the Big Bad Wolf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This _might_ get turned into something longer at some point. It was my first attempt for a story I'm writing for JayTim week, but I later scrapped it in favor of the second attempt.

Sometimes, life was a real bitch. 

Jason glared at his hands, or specifically, the gloves on his hands that used to fit so perfectly. He waggled his fingers, hoping for some reversal of fortune, but no. No such luck. 

“Thank god you didn’t wear your helmet tonight,” Tim muttered from where he was collapsed against the wall of the dark alley. He’d also been struck by the stray blast of energy, but, at least for the moment, didn’t have any visible side effects, other than appearing a hell of a lot taller than usual. 

But then again, Jason was a lot shorter so he supposed even Tim was allowed to be the tall one for a change. “Small favor,” he tried to growl, but stopped when his voice squeaked. _Squeaked_. He had some vague memories of his voice cracking while a teenager, but he never did _that_. 

His partner for the night snickered and patted Jason’s much smaller head, ruffling his hair as he did. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone you got turned into a kid.” 

“That shit-stain hit you too. Why the hell don’t you look any different?” Jason jerked away from Tim’s touch, and crossed his much shorter arms over his chest. The effect was lost under the massively huge jacket and the gray and red body armor he normally wore. He refused to look down at the pants already swimming at his ankles, weighed down by his guns. His tinier feet don’t stand a chance in his boots. 

Tim was quiet for a moment before he replied. “I’m pretty sure there’s some changes we’re just not seeing right now.” He rubbed at his head, drawing Jason’s eyes to the cowl he wore. Something was off there, but in the dark, it was hard to tell exactly what. “I’ve got a safehouse that’s not far from here,” Tim continued. “Let’s just get there in one piece and we can reassess. Okay?” 

There wasn’t much more either of them could do here, so Jason nodded stiffly. “Fine. Help me with my gear, will ya? I gotta figure out how to walk in these things.” 

It took them longer than either would have liked, but they finally make it to the safehouse, a rather decent studio apartment a few blocks away. Jason ended up riding on Tim’s back all the way there while Tim carried the rest of his equipment, boots, and clothes. They both collapsed on the worn sofa, weary beyond belief. But Jason was nothing if not stubborn and he wanted to see what changes had been wrought on his replacement. 

“Off,” he ordered, tugging at Tim’s cape. 

Tim batted his hand to the side easily, much easier than he would under regular circumstances. Both pause at that because while Jason was much shorter than he once was, he’s still physically in his early teens at least and he’d been solid and scrappy even then. 

Slowly, Tim removed a glove. Everything looked normal there except for the long dark nails at the tip of his fingers. Tim held them up to his face to inspect them closely. 

Jason couldn’t keep his mouth shut for long. “You haven’t been paintin’ your nails again recently, have ya?” 

“No,” Tim replied neutrally. He removed the other glove and inspected his hands like they were some new and fascinating thing he’d never seen before. 

But Jason knew there had to be more to it than that. He tugged again at Tim’s cape and this time, he was rewarded with one long-nailed hand gently pushing back the cowl. 

Two coal black ears sprung up from the top of Tim’s head, his untrimmed hair falling over the side of his head where normal, _human_ , ears usually hung out. Jason actually gasped at the sheer unexpectedness of it, but Tim was already on his feet, unbuckling his bandoliers and removing his cape. He shoved the bottom half of his uniform down a hair and reached down his pants to remove a _tail_ that apparently had tucked itself between his legs. 

“What the shit…” Jason breathed. Flabbergasted was a good word for how he felt right now, so he stuck with that. “You have a _tail._ How the fuck did you miss that?” 

“Denial is a wonderful thing.” Tim darted off toward the small bathroom and flipped on the light. He leaned over the counter and bared his teeth in the mirror. Jason padded after him on bare feet and caught the flash of fangs before Tim’s mouth snapped shut. 

Jason rubbed his face in frustration. “Great. Just fucking great. You’ve been turned into a wolf and I’m a kid. What’s next? Dick gonna wander in here as the little mermaid?” 

There was a knock on the living room window. 

“I was fuckin’ kidding!”


	15. Luggage Swap AU (JasonKon)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I accepted a number of Tumblr prompts last weekend, all AUs and different pairings. 
> 
> Luggage Swap for spazzterror!

“Son of a bitch!” Jason looks down in panic at the suitcase laying on his sofa. The bag he picked up from the airport baggage claim not even an hour before thinking it was his. It’s identical, even down to the stupid red yarn tied around the handle to make it stand out in the sea of other black suitcases.

But the contents are not his own. To start, he doesn’t even own boxers, much preferring boxer briefs. And the ridiculous sweater, which he could probably use for a blanket, is certainly not something he’d wear. Ever. It does look handmade though.

Jason closes the bag and zips it up. He’s got two choices. Either call the airline and explain what happened or check for a luggage tag and hope to god who ever owns that hideous sweater has his suitcase and isn’t a complete douche.

There’s a tag. And a name, phone number, and address. Well, someone’s a Boy Scout. His only has his name and number.

He picks up his phone to dial but it starts ringing before he can. It’s the same number he was just about to enter.

Jason grins as he answers. “Please tell me this is Conner Kent and that you have my suitcase.”

There’s a pause. “Only if you tell me this is Jason Todd and you have mine.” The man’s voice sounds a bit young but in good humor.

“I think that’s safe to say, Mr. Kent. I’m totally changing the color of my yarn after this. Maybe even putting on a ribbon.” His adopted sister Stephanie has a bright purple bow she ties around the handle of her bag when she travels. He’s made fun of her before but now he’s totally stealing this policy, to hell with what the others say.

“Me too,” Kent agrees. “So how do we want to do this? I’m in Gotham for work so I don’t really know my way around.”

The address on the tag reads Kansas so chances are likely this is some small town hick in the big city for the first time. He must have boarded Jason’s flight during that brief layover in Wichita. “First off, never admit you know don’t know shit in this city. Gothamites will eat you alive and leave nothing left.” The warning is said lightly but in earnest. This isn’t a nice city. At all. “Second, let’s see if we can find someplace easy and public that you can get to without any hassle. I know this town like the back of my hand.”

“Sounds like I lost my bag to someone who’s not a complete dick.”

“Naw, my brother is Dick. I’m the asshole.” Jason laughs as he says it. “I take it you’re in a hotel? Do you remember what subway line you took?”

“I’m actually staying with a friend of mine. He lives in the Upper West Side. I did a semester at Gotham U though a few years ago so I know the Coventry area pretty well too.” Kent wisely leaves the asshole comment alone.

“I got a brother who lives in the west side.” Jason has too many brothers. Bruce really should have stopped after Tim. “He’s a coffee nut and loves this little place on the corner of 53rd and Park.” He rattles off the name.

“Yeah, I know it. I can be there in an half an hour.”

“Make it an hour,” Jason replies. “I have to cross town and traffic at this time of day sucks.”

“We can meet closer,” Kent tries to say but Jason cuts him off.

“Don’t worry about it, Kansas. I’ll see you soon.” Jason hangs up before Kent has a chance to say anything else.

He really wishes this fuck-up hadn’t happened. All he wants is a shower and a nap. Perhaps when he has his stuff he’ll check and see if Tim is home. He’s crashed on that overstuffed sofa of his more than once.

~*~

Conner Kent is easy enough to spot when Jason arrives at the coffee shop an hour later. He’s tall, built like a fricking linebacker, and has a mop of closely cut black hair. He also stands out because he’s got Jason’s suitcase standing upright next to his table where he’s fucking around on his phone.

He also looks kind of familiar but Jason can’t immediately pinpoint why.

“Conner Kent?” he asks, walking up to the man.

Kent looks up and whoa, those are some of the bluest eyes Jason has ever seen. He smiles. “Jason Todd?”

“The one and only.”

“You don’t look like an asshole to me.” Kent’s smile grows into a smartass grin.

“Gimme five minutes and you’ll change your mind.”

Jason leaves the suitcase by the table and goes to order himself a drink. He deserves it after dealing with the subway during rush hour. Kent is easy enough on the eyes so perhaps he can get his flirt on while he’s at it. If anything, it’ll fluster the small town guy. Give him a big city experience. Cup in hand, he returns to the table and takes a seat.

Kent is still smiling at him, this time a bit knowingly.

“What?” Jason asks somewhat suspiciously.

“I remembered where I know your name from,” Kent replies and takes a sip from his coffee.

Jason’s eyes narrow. “You do?” He hasn’t done anything newsworthy in months. That’s Tim’s job this quarter. Or is it Dick’s? They take turns. His isn’t until the holidays.

“Yeah. My best friend is your brother, Tim. You probably know me by my nickname. Kon.”

Holy shit. He does know the name. Tim’s best friend from college or something like that. “Well, well, small world.” Jason’s plans rapidly realign to the news. He won’t flirt with his little brother’s best friend. Much. “Lucky you lost your bag to me then.” He winks.

“Yep. Lucky.” Kon’s eyes rake up and down Jason’s seated form.

Well then. This looks promising. Most people shy away from flirting with their best friend’s siblings but not this guy. If he’s got no issues with it then why not? Besides, it’s been awhile since he truly pissed off Tim. “So, how long you crashing on Timmy’s sofa?”


	16. Reincarnation AU (JayTim)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reincarnation AU (that turned out to be more soulmate, but whatever; they play hand in hand in my opinion) for greythunderkat.

“I can’t lose you. Jay…please don’t go.” Tim tries hard not to lose his vaunted self control but it’s hard. He needs to keep it together. He has to. Jason’s already been through so much, he doesn’t need to worry about his husband losing it completely.

“Shush, baby bird. It’s my time and you know it.” Jason’s voice is weak, barely a feathery whisper over the sound of the heart monitor keeping track of each slowing beat.

“I know,” Tim grips Jason’s frail hand, once so smooth and strong and now wrinkled with age. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“I’ll…find you again. I always do.” There’s a twinkle in those teal eyes that months of ravaging illness hasn’t stolen away. “Always and forever.”

That’s the way of soulmates. Reincarnated over and over, constantly being torn apart only to find each other once again. Tim’s not sure how long he and Jason have been together, but he’s convinced it’s a been a very long time. Their red string of fate is strong.

“Not if I find you first.” Tim presses a kiss to Jason’s almost bloodless lips. There’s a hint of blue to them.

“We’ve had a…good run this time.”

“Yeah, we did. Once you got past wanting to kill me.” That had been rough, not to mention the sense of loss he’d experienced when Jason died at the Joker’s hands. How their thread remained so strong after that is something they’ll probably never know but it doesn’t really matter. They moved past it and look at them now. “Who’d have thought we’d even live to get wrinkles?”

Jason’s laugh turns into a wracking cough, which Tim helps ease him through. “What are…you…tryin’…to do? Kill me?” His voice is even weaker and Tim has to lean in close. “Already on…death’s door. Again.”

If a light breeze wouldn’t knock Jason over, Tim would swat him for the bad joke. “Always with the death jokes, Jay. You’d think they’d have grown old by now.”

“No. We did. They didn’t.” Jason lapses into silence, his breath a thin rattle in his chest.

Tim knows this sound. It’s almost time. He slowly gets up from his chair, back protesting the movement after having been seated so long, and climbs into the hospital bed to lay beside his husband. He only hopes that when Death takes him for a second time in this life that she takes him at the same time. He doesn’t want to live without his soulmate. The long years ahead in their next life until they find each other again are lonely ones.

“Love you, Timmy,” Jason rasps. “Always.”

“I love you too. Always and forever.”


	17. Mistaken Identity AU (JayTim)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mistaken Identity AU for fatcatsarecats (Nanimok)

“Bwooose!” Little Timmy yanks on Jason’s hair and claps at his face with those tiny hands. “Bwooose!”

“For the last time, Tim. I’m not Bruce.” Jason isn’t sure why this is happening. The deaged Tim has no issues with remembering anyone else’s names but seems to get his and Bruce’s mixed up at the drop of a hat.

Dick isn’t helping matters. He’s got his phone out and is recording this. For posterity, he said earlier. “I think it’s the size, Little Wing. You and Bruce are giants compared to him.”

“You’re not helping,” Jason bites out, trying hard not to scowl. The last time he did, Tim screamed and only Alfred could get him to shut up. The soft chocolate chip cookies probably helped.

“Oh, I’m helping plenty. Tim’s going to love seeing this when he’s back to normal.”

“What planet are you from again? In what world does Tim like being embarrassed?” He knows his boyfriend. Tim is more apt to take the footage and destroy all copies in existence before appreciating the sentiment behind his secondhand embarrassment.

Not to mention plan revenge on all those involved. Nope, he’s staying out of this one. He likes his balls right where they’re at, thank you very much.

Dick grins and slowly moves in closer. “Nowhere but honestly, I don’t care at the moment. This is too damn cute to miss.”

Tim takes that moment to shout “Bwooose!” again.

Jason resists the urge to rub his ears. “Here.” He shoves Tim at Dick, who barely manages to catch hold instead of dropping him. “I want to try something.”

Tiny Tim tries to steal the phone in Dick’s hand. Even as a toddler, he knows his preferred toys. “Dick!” he pronounces loudly.

“Hey, Timmy!” Dick says and swings him around. “Let’s try that in an indoor voice, okay?”

Jason snickers and leaves the living room before Tim notices. He runs upstairs to the room he shares with his boyfriend whenever they crash here and quickly changes his shirt. In the bathroom, he wets down a comb and runs it through his hair. Maybe a slight change in appearance will help get Tim to recognize him finally.

Downstairs, there’s a loud wail coming from the family room they converted into a playroom for Tim. It’s been two days now and Zatanna says they’ve got at least two more before the spell breaks. Jason enters the room with a big smile. It’s forced but who cares? “Heya, Timmy!”

The toddler looks up from where Dick is unsuccessfully trying to distract him with a brightly colored stuffed animal. His eyes are wide and so incredibly blue, even with unshed tears. But his tiny face brightens when he sees Jason. “Bwooose!”

Well, shit. There went that idea.


	18. Immortal AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Immortal AU for skalidra

“Dammit, Jason!” Tim charges forward and grabs hold of the man who just stabbed his lover. He can smell the blood already, blood he knows the taste of all too well. The man’s body goes flying down the dark alley, the loud crack signifying his hopefully timely demise. If he doesn’t die from the fall, Tim will kill him slowly.

Jason collapses to his knees, a hand pressed tightly against his ribs. A trickle of blood is already trailing down the side of his mouth.

Tim kneels next to him. “You idiot, why did you do that? He couldn’t hurt me!” The blood in his veins runs with imagined heat, so fierce is his anger.

“Didn’t think,” Jason gasps. There’s a bubbling sound to his breathing and Tim realizes the knife must have punctured a lung.

“No, you never do. My impetuous human.” Tim has a decision to make, and fast. He can turn Jason while there’s still time. But does he want this horrible curse? His lover isn’t bothered by him being a vampire. It intrigues him, just as it did Tim when he was first bitten. But he has never given this life to another, has never wanted to until now.

If Jason dies the true death this night, Tim will follow come morning and greet the dawn.

“Jason, listen to me,” Tim says urgently, pressing his cold hands against the warmth of Jason’s body. Warmth he loves so much but will gladly give up if it means this man will stay by his side for all eternity. “There is a chance that I can make you like me. That I can turn you into a vampire. I can save you. But only if you want me to try.”

The bubbling sound grows louder as Jason’s heart beats faster, trying to compensate for the blood he’s losing. His normally vivid teal eyes that manage to sear the remnants of Tim’s soul with their intensity are fading. Jason attempts to speak, chokes, and spits blood. He tries again. “Try. Follow…you…forever.”

Tim doesn’t waste any time to double check. His fangs press against Jason’s throat, piercing the skin. Hot blood pumps into his waiting mouth and he swallows, again and again, draining Jason of his very essence, down to the last drop.

Just before his heart stops, Tim tears himself away and rips the skin of his wrist with his fangs. Blood wells up, dark and thick He presses it against Jason’s mouth. “Drink,” he coaxes. “Drink.”

He’s afraid he’s messed up, but Jason’s throat moves, swallowing the viscous fluid down. Tim waits and he does it again. And again. A hand clamps tight over his wrist and Jason’s teeth press down hard to keep the wound open.

Yes…it’s working. It’s working. Tim wants to shout his happiness from the rooftops but he has to get Jason out of here. They have to find shelter for the day. He has a safehouse that’s not too far.

But first, he has some unfinished business to attend to. Tim gently detaches Jason’s mouth from his wrist. “Enough,” he says. “Wait for me a moment.”

He rises and darts down the alley with the speed inherent in his kind. The man he threw earlier is still there, laying in a crumbled heap against the dank brick wall. His cheap purple suit appears black in the faint light of the moon overhead. He whimpers when he spots Tim approaching.

“I know my lover all too well and he will want to come after you once his transformation is complete. The real question is, should I let him kill his own murderer or shall I take vengeance into my own hands and avenge his untimely death?” Tim is beyond caring at this point that he’s about to break his promise that he’d never kill again. Blood has stained his hands for centuries, what’s a little more?

The man cackles with insane laughter and Tim snaps his neck without a second thought.

He returns to Jason and lifts his large body in his arms. The weight doesn’t bother Tim but the man is taller and broader than his slighter frame.

“You…did it?” Jason whispers faintly. His heart has almost stopped beating entirely.

“Yes, my love. I avenged you. The Joker is dead.”

Tim can feel Jason’s smile pressed against his neck. “Good. Now…we have…forever.”

“Forever.”

Jason’s heart stops.

And eternity begins.


	19. Magic AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Magic AU for djkaeru

“Don’t touch that!” Kyle’s warning comes too late.

Jason reaches out and touches the magical barrier with a gloved hand and is sent flying back as the field repels him. He slams hard against the wall and slides to the stone floor. “Ow.”

Kyle shakes his head. “That’s all you can say? Ow?” The Bats are all insane, each and every one.

“Go fuck yourself.”

And there is Jason’s legendary wit and sarcasm returning. “Oh good, you didn’t hit your head that badly after all.”

Donna looks between them with an unreadable expression and approaches the barrier with a little more caution than non-super powered member of their party did. “Jason, take a breather. Kyle, don’t taunt him.”

She sounds like a mother reprimanding her unruly children.

Kyle sinks down next to Jason and lets her work. Donna is the only magically inclined member of their little party so he leaves her to it. “You alright?” he asks quietly.

Jason rubs the back of his head. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. But you or Donna are totally taking the lead while we’re in whatever the hell this dimension is.”

“Fair enough. Should I make you a little hamster ball to roll around in while we’re here? You know, to keep you safe?” Kyle can’t help digging his own grave, despite Donna’s warning.

“You are such a pain in my ass.” Jason shoves him hard.

Kyle is sure that if he were wearing anything other than his Green Lantern uniform, there would be a bruise. “That’s not what you said the other night.” He waggles his eyebrows at the man, not sure if they’re even visible beneath his mask.

But Jason is a Bat through and through and doesn’t miss a beat. “Once we get that magical wand of zippity doodah whatever the hell it’s called, I’m shoving it up yours.”


	20. Teacher AU (Jason and Bruce)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Teacher AU for charcoal-soul

 

Jason can’t help but feel a little nervous. After all, it’s not everyday he gets to sit down and talk to Bruce Wayne, one of the richest men in the world. Then again, he never would have expected to have his son Damian in his class either. This is a public school, not a private school.

But money speaks and after Jason got a look at the kid’s records, he has a good idea of why the so-called demon spawn is here. The kid is a brat of the highest order but he won’t go so far as to call him a demon.

No, he knows what’s going on. And what other teachers have just been too blind or unwilling to see.

Why does the underpaid 7th grade teacher have to be the one to call out a billionaire? Those other teachers are better paid and probably have less crowding in the classroom to take notice. Jason can’t help but smirk. Money doesn’t solve everything.

It sure does help though.

He runs a hand nervously over his slacks and fidgets with his tie. He’d brought a change of clothes just for this meeting and hastily dressed after he was done with bus duty. Ties are a rarity and he’s not even sure he tied the knot correctly.

There’s a polite knock at the door to the classroom and it opens before Jason can stand up.

Bruce Wayne walks in, looking like a million bucks. His suit and tie are immaculate and probably cost half of Jason’s annual salary. But unlike the goofy playboy that graces the papers and news, all Jason sees is a tired father. One that is not looking forward to this meeting but is here anyway because he loves his child.

Jason rises and approaches the door. “Thanks for coming, Mr. Wayne. I’m Jason Todd.” He holds out his hand and is rewarded with a very firm handshake.

“Mr. Todd,” Wayne replies with a nod of his head. “Damian actually speaks highly of you. It’s rare to hear that from him.”

“Wow, really?” Jason grins. “He’s a tough nut to crack, so that makes me happy to hear.” He gestures to his overly messy desk. “Have a seat. I don’t want to waste any of your time.”

Wayne looks ridiculous sitting in the small chair. Or rather, he’s just too large for what is otherwise a normal chair. The man is a beast. Jason’s not a small guy by any stretch of the imagination but he feels minuscule next to him.

Jason takes his seat and looks the man in the eye. “I have some concerns about Damian. He’s much too smart for a class like this.”

The billionaire nods in agreement. “I know. But you’ve probably seen his records. No other place will accept him. I’ve tried every school in Gotham and I refuse to send him away for boarding school.”

“I remember something in the paper about how you only found out about him a few years ago?” Jason asks leadingly.

“Yes. His mother hid his existence from me until he was 10.” There’s a story there and Jason knows he’s not going to hear it.

“So that’s probably where his holier than thou attitude comes from?”

“Yes.”

Jason nods slowly. It confirms a few things. “So, here’s the thing. Damian is too smart for this class. For pretty much the entire public education system. We get into some great discussions about the book we’re reading, and history, but these go way over the rest of the class’s head. I think it’s fun because I love a good argument but this is the only time I ever see Damian engage with the curriculum. The rest of the time, he’s bored out of his mind.”

Wayne heaves a long suffering sigh. “I know. Trust me, I do. But with all the trouble he’s caused elsewhere…”

“I call bullshit.”

The other man’s eyes flash in surprise at the blunt tone. “Excuse me?”

“I call bullshit,” Jason repeats. “Damian is not a bad kid. He’s not lashing out for attention. He’s socially awkward, not destructive.”

“But he burned down that gym.”

“Do you really believe that?” Jason asks gently.

And this is what a billionaire father of four looks like when he’s feeling defeated. “No.”

“Neither do I. So here’s what I suggest…” Jason starts talking about some after school programs he knows of that are more social in aspect than academic. Volunteer ones, things were Damian has a chance to be a mentor to someone and share what he knows already. “I really think if he can learn to just talk TO people instead of talk AT them, he’ll have an easier time of things. School will always be a struggle unless you homeschool him, but he needs the socialization and that’s not something homeschool provides.”

Wayne is looking at him like Jason has a second head. “Do you know that in all the parent teacher conferences I’ve had, not a single teacher has dared say any of this to me?”

“Then they’re not doing their jobs. I may get paid dick, but I care about my kids.” Jason shrugs and decides to drop a little something personal. “I grew up on the streets so school was a pipe dream. But I tried and managed to get my GED; it was your Wayne Foundation scholarships that put me through college. All I want to do is make sure these kids have that same chance. Damian included.”

Wayne’s harsh exterior starts the thaw finally. “Mr. Todd, the world needs more people like you.”

“Aw, you’re gonna make me blush.” Jason can feel his ears burn though and tries to hide it.

“I mean it.” Wayne stands and holds out his hand again. “I will consider everything you’ve said. I assume you have a few programs in mind already?”

Jason stands up as well and shakes the man’s hand again. He knows a dismissal when he sees one. “I do. I can make a list and give it to Damian if you like.”

“No, you can send it to me directly.” Wayne reaches into his tailored jacket and pulls out a card. “That’s my personal email and cell. I’d prefer you contact me directly for anything regarding my son rather than going through my assistant.” He pauses and then looks Jason squarely in the eye. “I appreciate this, Mr. Todd. I really do. Thank you for taking the time to care.”

The flush creeps down the back of Jason’s neck. The earnest appreciation from Bruce Wayne is blowing his mind. “Damian’s a good kid. He just needs to learn how to be one first.”

“Amen to that.”


	21. Roommates AU (JayTim)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Roommates AU for xxluluelix

Tim is a little nervous. He’s the first to admit he has some anxiety around people and new experiences but he tries hard to keep it under control. This…this should not be bothering him so much. It’s just Jason, after all.

Jason, his boyfriend of six months, the most wonderful and handsome man in the world as far as he’s concerned, as well as one of the biggest dorks he’s ever met. The jock with the brain.

How on earth he finds Tim in all his scrawny computer nerd glory attractive is beyond him. But he does, so this is why Tim shouldn’t be nervous. He can share a dorm room with his boyfriend for a few weeks or however long it takes for the university to fix the flood damage on Jason’s floor from where that pipe burst the other day.

In a way, Tim thinks he’s lucky because he has a single room and already has a relationship with his soon to be roommate. A lot of other people have it worse, crammed three to a room. There’s a cot set up in the corner for Jason and Tim’s made space in the closet and dresser, but in the back of his mind, he wonders if Jason really will sleep on the cot.

Or will he want to share the single bed Tim sleeps in?

Tim sucks in a deep breath and lets it out slowly. This is the real source of his fears. He and Jason haven’t been physical in their relationship yet. Sure, they kiss and cuddle, and Tim loves it but he’s not sure he’s ready for more yet. And it scares him because he knows Jason has had boy and girlfriends before.

Will he expect that while he’s here?

A knock on the door breaks Tim out of his thoughts and he rushes to answer it. Jason stands there with a massive duffle-bag over one shoulder, his laptop bag and backpack over the other. He grins brightly at Tim, which causes some of his concerns to fade away. “Heya, Tim. Thanks for letting me crash here. It’s so better than shacking up with Dick and Wally.”

“I bet,” Tim says and steps aside to let Jason in. “And no worries. I tried to make some space for you…”

Jason waves him off. “I really couldn’t care less if my clothes are wrinkled. I just need a place to crash and a quiet place to study.” He winks at Tim as he sets his bags down. “At least I know you’re not noisy.”

It would not be the first time Jason has used Tim’s room as a place to escape his loud roommate Roy.

Tim sits down on his bed and watches as Jason unpacks. His duffle doesn’t have a lot of clothes but is mostly full of books. Those he leaves in the bag and soon has the rest of his stuff put away.

Jason sits down gingerly on the edge of the cot and eyes it warily. “I feel like a giant.”

“You are a giant.” Then Tim has a great idea. “Maybe I should take the cot. You’ll fit on the bed better.”

But Jason shoots it down. “Nah, don’t worry about it. This is your room and I’m the intruder. I know you need your space.”

Tim’s heart melts. Why was he worried about things before? This is Jason. He never pushes and quietly accepts whatever Tim is able to give. Acting on instinct, he pats the space on the bed next to him. “Come here.”

Jason gives him a curious look but obeys. As soon as he’s seated, Tim wraps his arms around him, breathing in his clean scent. He must have showered before coming here.

“I’m a little nervous,” Tim admits quietly.

A large hand runs soothingly down his back. “I know. I am too.”

“Really?” Tim withdraws enough to give him an incredulous look. “Why?”

Jason laughs and plants a kiss on Tim’s forehead. “I’ve never lived with my boyfriend before.”

“Oh.” Well, this puts a whole different spin on things. “Um… maybe, if you want to, um, we can try sharing my bed. Just to sleep!” Tim says quickly, feeling the back of his neck heat up from the blush he knows is gracing his face.

“Let’s see how tonight goes,” Jason replies, and holds Tim tighter. “Right now, I just want to hold you and enjoy the peace and quiet. The last couple days have been rough.”

Tim relaxes into Jason’s hold and lets him pull him down onto the bed so that he’s laying beside him.

This, he can do.


	22. Hogwarts AU (JayTim)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hogwarts AU for aurea2002

Bruce resists the urge to throw his wand at the two men standing before him. Men, not students, although they were both once students here at Hogwarts.

Jason Todd graduated with full marks on his NEWTs and went on to become a skilled auror before a serious injury sidelined his career. He is possibly the best Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor Hogwarts has had in an age.

Timothy Drake graduated a couple years later with marks just as high and was courted by the Ministry of Magic for a position so select, Bruce is convinced the young man may have been a spy. But that’s all in the past and now he’s the resident Potions Master.

All of this means nothing in the face of why they’re standing before him.

Bruce glares sternly at them. “You two are grown men. Acting like the children we’re entrusted to teach is intolerable and beneath you both. I don’t know what your problem is with each other, but I suggest you figure it out or I will be forced to discipline the two of you.”

Jason, of course, is the first to speak up. “That’s what I was trying to do, Bruce! But Mr. Know-It-All here has his wand stuck so far up his ass that he can’t take a fucking joke.”

If looks could kill, Jason would be a dead man. “Know-it-all? Have you heard yourself before? At least I know when to keep my mouth shut,” Tim snaps right back. “You are one of the most condescending assholes I’ve ever met.”

“I’m condescending?” Jason’s eyes blaze and he’s about to launch into yet another of the arguments that landed them here in the first place.

“That’s enough!” Bruce roars. He slams his hands down on his desk and stands. “You want to act like children? Fine, then I’m going to treat you like children.” He rounds the desk and grabs both instructors by the ears. Ignoring their pained protests, he opens the door to a mostly empty storage closet, grabs their wands, and shoves them in. “You’ll stay in there until you work your issues out. I’ll check on you in a few hours.”

He closes the door and uses a spell to lock it since it doesn’t have one. There is a shocked silence at first and then a loud pounding can be heard behind him as Jason tries to break down the door.

“Bruce! Let us out! I refuse to speak to this hairy ape!” The shout comes from Tim, which surprises him.

“Who are you calling hairy, short stack?”

The shouting devolves from there and Bruce waves his wand again to place a charm over the door to silence his office. A few hours should be enough for them to finally work things out.

He hopes.

Bruce goes about his business and sits in on a class to observe how Stephanie Brown, the new Charms instructor, is handling her group of first year Slytherins. They all seem to be getting on well, which is a relief because he really only needs one headache at a time.

Four hours have passed by the time Bruce returns to his office and removes the charms he placed on the storage room. He knocks. “How are things going in there?”

There’s a muffled shout and silence for a moment before Tim speaks up. “I think we’re good, Bruce.”

“Yeah,” Jason agrees. He sounds a little shaky.

Bruce has his suspicions but opens the door.

Tim strides out calmly, cool and collected, his mouth a little red but otherwise, he looks fine. He gives Bruce an arch look as he accepts his wand from him. “Your problem resolution skills could use some work but in this case, they proved effective.”

Jason stumbles out of the dark room. Unlike his colleague, he’s a rumpled mess and is awkwardly trying to readjust his robes. Bruce’s brain stalls at the sight. He looks like someone who’s just been caught with his pants down. “I’ll say,” he agrees and grabs his wand from the headmaster. “Looks like our issues were just some misplaced sexual tension.” He grins roguishly.

“Yes,” Tim agrees primly as he strides towards the door. Before he opens it, he glances over his shoulder at Jason. “I’ll you later, auror.”

With that, he leaves the office.

Bruce is still in a state of shock and only starts to come out of it when Jason slaps him hard across the shoulders. “Gotta say, Bruce, I didn’t think that would turn out quite so well. Anytime you feel like locking me and Tim in a closet again, feel free.”

The next day, a letter requesting the repeal of Hogwarts no fraternization rule appears on Bruce’s desk. It’s signed not only by Timothy and Jason, but also Stephanie and Cassandra Cain, the soft spoken Care of Magical Creatures instructor. Bruce’s headache grows incrementally as the portraits of the former headmasters just laugh at him.

Winter vacation needs to arrive faster. The school year has barely started and he’s already ready for a break.


	23. Wrong Number (JayTim)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wrong Number AU for myfavrobin (Nykyrianne)

It starts with a wrong number. Jason lays beside Tim, still wrapped up in him, breathing the same air. But Tim, always the businessman, picks up his phone and answers it.

After a moment, he replies with “Sorry, I think you have the wrong number.” The other person must apologize or something because Tim chuckles and says not to worry, that it happens.

He puts down his phone and turns his attention back to Jason.

But he’s distracted, not all there when normally lavishing his love and affection on the other man is something he attends to with laser sharp focus and intensity.

It happens again the following week when they’re making dinner together. And then again the week after that when they’re trying to watch a movie.

Jason doesn’t think anything of it. Wrong numbers happen after all.

Time passes.

One evening, Jason is making dinner and his phone rings a familiar tone. “Hey, handsome. What’s up?” he asks, not even looking as the screen.

“Hey, babe,” Tim answers. He sounds tired.

Jason knows what’s about to come. There’s only one reason why Tim would be calling at this time of day. “How late you going to be?”

“Hopefully just a few hours. Stupid quarterly report.”

“Take your time. I’ll save your dinner.”

“You’re the best. Love you.”

“Love you too.” Jason hangs up and continues making dinner. He eats and then spends the evening working on his thesis. Tim works hard to keep a roof over their heads while he’s in graduate school and Jason can’t wait until he’ll be able to return the favor and balance out their workload. For now, he keeps house and works a few nights a week for their grocery money.

He loves Tim, he really does. They’ve been together for three years now and he has plans to make that permanent when he’s got his master’s degree. Jason never thought he’d ever find someone he would want to share the rest of his life with but Tim makes it all too easy to see the possibility.

Tim is late coming home next week too. And the week after. And the week after that. Jason asks what’s going on and Tim just shakes his head. “Work bullshit. Damian is a pain in my ass.”

Damian Wayne is Tim’s boss. The tyrannical demon son of Bruce Wayne that only Tim ever seems able to manage and keep from creating a PR nightmare.

“Can I help with anything?” Jason asks, rubbing Tim’s tight shoulders. His boyfriend leans back into the touch like he always does and gives him a slow smile.

“I can think of something else you can rub.”

“I think I can do more than just that.”

One night a week changes into two.

Jason doesn’t think much of it. But one day when he’s sorting laundry, he finds a movie ticket stub in the pocket of Tim’s pants. He looks at it curiously because they haven’t been to one in a while. The date is from two days before.

The last night Tim said he was working late.

His heart sinks as a niggling thought enters his mind. No, there has to be an explanation. There has to be. But if Tim is lying to him about staying late for work, then what else is he lying about?

Rather than calling him out, Jason decides to wait and see.

The next time Tim calls and says he’s going to be late, Jason offers to bring him dinner.

“Oh, I couldn’t ask you to do that. It’s rush hour and traffic sucks,” Tim says quickly.

“I don’t mind, Timmers,” he replies easily. “You’re the one working hard, it’s the least I can do. Besides, the subway into downtown isn’t too bad. It’s coming back out that’s a mess.”

“No, don’t worry about it,” Tim comes back with. “I think Damian is ordering in dinner for us anyway.”

“If you’re sure?” Jason checks.

“I’m sure. I’ll be home as soon as I can. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

Jason hangs up and sets his phone down. After a moment where he stares blankly at nothing, he grabs an empty coffee mug and throws it hard against the kitchen wall. It shatters to pieces. He’s breathing hard, and his fists are clenched so tightly his knuckles already ache. He wants a fight, he wants to hit something.

But instead, he cleans up the mess he made.

The next week, Tim is home on time every night. Everything is perfectly normal and Jason finds himself wondering why he’s being paranoid in the first place.

Next week is more of the same. But on Friday, Tim announces he has to go on a trip Monday with Damian. “It came up at the last second. We have to go to San Francisco for a few days.”

Jason tries not to feel nervous. “Want me to take you to the airport?”

Tim smiles and draws him in for a kiss. “That would be great.”

Monday comes and Jason drops Tim off at the private terminal. He sees Damian already waiting so he instantly feels better about everything. It’s fine. This is a legitimate trip. He doesn’t have to worry about anything going on there, as Damian is barely 18.

Jason goes about his routine — classes, reading, and too much writing. Tim calls him in the evening and they talk about their respective days.

On Wednesday, he gets a call earlier than usual. “Hey,” Tim says, slightly breathless, like he’s in a rush. “This is taking longer to wrap up than Damian thought. I’ll probably be gone until next Tuesday.”

Cue the anxiety. But Jason tries hard to keep calm and tells his suspicious side to take a hike. It’s work. This has actually happened before because Damian is shit at negotiations. “Man, there goes that nice dinner I was planning.”

“I’m sorry, hon. Did you go to the store already?” Tim sounds a bit sad.

“No, I was going to after class.”

“Well, do it anyway and treat yourself. Damian’s giving me a bonus for this out of his own pocket so I’ll move some funds for you.”

“Okay. Love you, babe.”

“I love you too.” Tim hangs up.

Jason stares blankly at his phone and sets it aside. Something about the conversation was off and he can’t quite pinpoint what.

It’s not until later that he realizes what it is and he puts his fork down heavily. Damian hates traveling over the weekend. He’s a homebody at heart so unless something is royally fucked up, he would come home regardless.

He waits until Friday evening to call Damian. As Tim’s boyfriend, the young Wayne heir knows him, albeit not well enough to chat more than casually with.

“What is it, Todd?” Damian’s lightly accented voice answers the phone. “I’m busy.”

“I know, and I’m sorry for bothering you.” Jason takes a deep breath and takes the plunge. “I haven’t heard from Tim tonight so I was wondering if he’s staying late with you again.”

There’s a long pause. “He’s not here. I’ve been home since yesterday morning. Drake said he was meeting you in Las Vegas for a long weekend. Something about a surprise.”

“Fuck,” Jason swears and this time, he punches the wall. He does it again. And again, not noticing the hot tears that burn in his eyes.

“Todd,” Damian’s voice calls him back to the present. “Drake, he…whatever is going on, I swear to you, I did not know. I’m…I’m sorry.”

Jason tries to calm down enough to ask one burning question. “Has Tim been staying late at work at all over the last few months?”

“Only twice that I know of.” Damian pauses and then growls in frustration. “He’s been using that as an excuse?”

“Yeah.”

“I wish to have no part in this,” the young businessman pronounces. “But I can’t have my personal assistant lying to me too.”

“Lemme talk to him first,” Jason says, his voice choking up. “I deserve that much.”

“You do,” Damian agrees quietly. “Todd, I…take care of yourself. Good luck.” He hangs up quickly.

Jason spends the weekend alternating between a debilitating funk and burning rage. What did he do? What did he do that made Tim so unhappy that he felt he had to go elsewhere to find love? Or is it just sex? They’re not exactly vanilla in bed as both of them like to spice things up. Is it the thrill of it all? That Tim has someone on the side and is successfully managing to keep Jason in the dark?

Most of the coffee mugs are broken by the time Monday morning rolls around. There’s a hole in the wall from where Jason punched through it. His knuckles are bandaged from the damage.

He forces himself to go to class. Nothing sticks, not that it matters; he’s read it all before. That night, Tim texts him rather than calls to let him know what time he’ll be home Tuesday. He’s been silent all weekend. Jason glares at his phone but manages to type out an acknowledgement and ask how things are going.

Two quick replies come in, saying he’s fine, that it’s been a busy weekend of schmoozing. And that he’s sorry for not calling, claiming the time zones as an excuse and not wanting to wake him.

Jason tosses his phone on the sofa and promptly goes to the bathroom to vomit.

He doesn’t sleep that night. When morning comes, he walks mindlessly around the apartment, slowly taking in the little things that make this place a home. A soft throw pillow that Tim insisted on. An afghan over the back of the sofa. Pictures of the two of them at Disneyworld last year.

All of it feels fake. Wrong.

Jason decides he can’t stay here. Not anymore. He calls Roy. “I need a place to crash for a while.”

“Of course, Jaybird,” Roy says without hesitation. “What’s going on? You and Tim fighting?”

Jason closes his eyes. Perhaps if he says it quickly, it won’t hurt as much. “Tim is cheating on me.”

“That motherfucking bastard. Get over here, right now. I’ll tell Kori.” This is what Jason loves about Roy. He doesn’t question, he doesn’t doubt his claim. They’ve been best friends for years and never once has he ever failed at having Jason’s back.

“I need to confront him first. He’s been out of town all weekend.”

“Need me there?”

“No, I have to do this myself.”

“I’m clearing the guestroom now. Lian will love seeing you.”

“Her hugs are the best. Next to Kori’s.” Jason rummages though the closet for his duffle-bag. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”

Packing all his personal belongings is something he never expected to have to do. He leaves all the things Tim purchased for him, along with mementos. His laptop he’s torn over but he needs it for a few more months. Sucking up his pride, he packs it too.

Tim arrives home two hours later. Outwardly, he’s the tired businessman, his suit slightly wrinkled from travel. His carry-on is slung over his shoulder and he’s got a large suitcase he wheels in behind him. He smiles tiredly at Jason. “Hey, handsome. You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

He drops his bag and wraps his arms around Jason in an easy hug like he always does.

But Jason doesn’t hug him back. He stands stiffly and inwardly rages over his desire to touch Tim and embrace him in return. He can’t. Not anymore.

Tim picks up on his uneasiness. “What’s wrong?” he asks, drawing back.

“You weren’t in San Francisco this weekend.”

“What are you talking about?” Tim asks, smiling gently. “Of course I was. Damian had me going all over the place…”

“I talked to Damian on Friday. He said you were in Las Vegas with me.” The words come out easier than Jason expects.

The smile falls from Tim’s face and he takes a step back. “Jason, I…”

“Just tell me why. What did I do?”

“You did nothing wrong, Jason.” Tim doesn’t deny it anymore. Not now that he’s been caught redhanded. “I tried not to do it but I couldn’t stop. I just…couldn’t ignore him.”

Him. Another man. Jason’s eyes burn and he shakes his head. “How long did you expect to get away with it? Does this other guy even know about me?”

“He does.”

“Fuck you.” Jason glowers, trembling with rage. “You must have been laughing at me the entire time. Both of you. Poor Jason, completely clueless about what’s going on around him. Fuck you!”

“No! It’s not like that at all!” Tim shouts, trying to defend himself, but Jason waves him off brusquely.

“It doesn’t matter. Not anymore. Goodbye, Tim.” He picks up his bag, hidden alongside the sofa where Tim couldn’t have seen it.

“Jason!” Tim grabs his arm, trying to haul him away from the door. “Wait. Let me explain.”

He shoves him off. “You lost the right to explain yourself as soon as you cheated on me. Enjoy fucking this other guy without having to worry about me.”

“Jason!” Tim shouts again, but Jason is out the door and walking down the hall. “Jason! Please! I love you!”

“Liar.”


	24. The Officer and the Hood (Part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No prompt, just my own imagination...

“Why do you always do this?” Officer Dick Grayson shouts, launching himself over a chain-link fence without missing a beat as he pursues the infamous Red Hood down a dark alley. His partner, Gannon Malloy, is somewhere up ahead in their patrol car, trying to box the criminal in. 

“Why do I do what, Officer Pretty Boy?” the masked man taunts right back. He doesn’t even sound winded. 

To be fair, Dick isn’t either. This chase is a walk in the park for him. 

“You’re one of the best thieves in Bludhaven. And yet,” Dick pauses as he jumps over a broken crate and sticks the landing, “And yet, you only come anywhere close to being caught when Malloy and I are around. What gives, Hood?” 

Hood laughs, a darkly sinister sound under normal circumstances, but this one sends a different kind of shiver down Dick’s spine. “Perhaps I just wanna see your ass. Those pants hide nothin’.” 

It wouldn’t be the first time someone’s made a comment about Dick’s perfectly sculpted glutes. “I’m a gymnast, you know.” 

To emphasize the point, he puts on a burst of speed, grabs hold of an overhead pipe, and throws himself through the air to land solidly on Hood’s back. They fall to the ground with a hard crash, Hood taking the brunt of it. 

“Motherfucker!” the dark-haired man swears while he struggles beneath Dick. 

“I win,” Dick breathes in Hood’s ear. He grabs his handcuffs and yanks one of Hood’s arms behind his back. “Now, here’s the fun part. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law…” 

Hood starts chuckling and stops squirming. 

Dick narrows his eyes, but finishes reciting his rights. Hood’s still laughing. “Something funny?” 

“Just the look on your face when I do this.” Hood shoves hard against the ground with his powerful legs and rises to his knees, even with Dick’s full weight on his back. He twists again, trying to fling the officer off, but Dick has his own legs wrapped around Hood’s waist in an attempt to anchor himself. 

It doesn’t do much good as Hood gains his feet and promptly slams Dick hard against the wall of the dark alley. His head meets brick and for a brief moment, Dick sees stars. His grip loosens enough for Hood to escape the cage of his legs and he slides to the ground. 

Shit. This isn’t going well. Dick tries to stand but stops short at the gun leveled a few short inches from his face. A loose handcuff dangles from Hood’s wrist. “That’s my gun,” Dick manages to say. 

“Yup. You really should take better care of it.” Hood looms over him, cutting a rather impressive figure in the faint light, a slight sneer twisting his lips. “Now, the way I see it, I’m fucked if I steal a cop’s gun, so I’m not going to bother. However, as much fun as this has been, I didn’t come out here for the cardio.” 

“What did you come out here for?” Dick asks warily. 

The cool steel of the gun barrel caresses his cheek mockingly. “I told you already. I came for your ass, Officer Grayson.” 

Dick narrows his eyes. Is he…? “Are you trying to flirt with me?” 

“Took ya long enough to figure it out.” 

“You’re a criminal. I’m a cop.” 

“I don’t hear you sayin’ no.” Hood doesn’t move though, waiting and watching him closely. 

“I’m not saying yes either,” Dick retorts before his mouth can catch up with his brain. “You’re a wanted criminal. I don’t care if your thighs are God’s gift to mankind, I’m still a cop and this is wrong.” 

“You like my thighs, huh?” Hood smirks, obviously pleased with Dick’s slip. “Well, I’d love to see you riding them, as well as my—” 

“Put the gun down!” Malloy shouts as he enters the alley, gun drawn and aimed at Hood. “This is your only warning, Hood!” 

Dick winces as the man heaves a massive sigh, sounding incredibly put upon. “Yeah, yeah. Cool your jets, Officer.” Hood raises his hands and kneels, placing the gun on the ground and kicking it towards Malloy. “Pretty Boy and I were just having a little talk.” 

“You’re under arrest, Hood.” 

“He said that to me too.” Hood looks up and grins at Dick. “I guess I’ll have to take a raincheck.” 

“The only place you’re being taken is jail.” 

“Promises, promises.” 

Dick isn’t sure how it happens, but Hood lunges forward and wraps his arms around him, hauling him close as he turns and places Dick between him and Malloy’s gun. He’s getting tired of Hood swinging him around like a ragdoll and tries to put up a fight, but there’s a knife against his throat and he can feel the keen edge pressing into his skin. Malloy shouts, but doesn’t fire. 

“Sorry to have to do this, Pretty Boy, but I got things to do.” Hood isn’t sorry and they both know it. 

“My name is Dick, not Pretty Boy.” Dick growls as he tries to figure a way out of this. 

“Seriously?” Hood chortles in his ear. “Well then. I’ll be seein’ ya, _Dickieboy._ ”

In one swift movement, Hood removes the knife and shoves Dick towards his partner. Dick staggers as he tries to regain his balance, Malloy reaching out to catch him. The sound of boots pounding against the pavement disappears behind them. 

“What the fuck was that about?” Malloy asks as he steadies Dick. It’s a nice gesture, but he doesn’t need it. 

Dick bites his tongue. There is not a single good way to explain that the entire chase was an elaborate game of cat and mouse just so Hood could flirt with him. Just as there’s not a way he can explain that he was on the cusp of doing it right back. 

Because damn, those _thighs_ …


	25. Dragon AU (JayTim)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from curdleddoodle over on Tumblr

_Prompt:_

_This place sucks, I’m gonna go live with that dragon._

_EXCUSE YOU, this is MY LAIR!_

~*~*~

Some days, Jason just didn’t want to deal with Bruce and all his bullshit. As the second son to one of the most noble families in the land, there’s a lot of things he’s used to doing that goes against his grain. It’s just the way it is. 

This time though, Jason is done. He can kowtow with the best of them but this is asking too much. 

“Fuck no.” 

“Jason, please.” 

“No, Bruce. Just...no. You can’t ask me to do that.”

Bruce rubs a tired hand over his eyes. “I’m sorry, son. But this is business and Sionis specifically asked for you.”

“You know my history with him,” Jason growls, fists clenching tightly as he resists the urge to punch his adopted father in the face. “You know what he did to me.”

“I know, which is why Dick will be with you.” 

Jason scoffs angrily. “Sionis will eat him alive. Screw you, Bruce. I’m not going.”

Bruce rises from behind his well-appointed desk. “Please, son. Think about the bigger picture here.”

“I have. And in no scenario do I see working with Sionis as a good thing for this family.”

“You’re forcing my hand, Jason. You WILL do this.” Bruce tries to order him but Jason is already shaking his head. 

“I’d sooner live with a dragon.” With that parting shot, he leaves the study. 

Jason makes good on his threat. He knows Bruce and how he’ll try to manipulate the situation. Desperate times call for desperate measures. Luckily for him, he knows the dragon he’s about to start sharing living quarters with. 

“Hey, Tim!” Jason shouts, announcing his presence at the mouth of the cave. “You home?”

“No,” a low rumble echoes from deep within the cave. 

“Nice, I’m coming in.” Jason drags his heavy bag inside. 

A few twists and turns later, the tunnel opens up into a large cavern. Magelights dot the smooth walls revealing a meticulously organized chamber. Tim is in his human form at the far end in the area he’s designated his workroom. He turns as Jason enters and eyes his bag warily. “What is that?”

Jason tosses it onto the floor beside one of the low divans and flops down onto the cushions. “Hi, honey! I’m home!” 

“Your home is in Wayne Manor,” Tim states in a dry tone as he sets down his project and crosses the chamber. “Why are you here?” 

For someone Jason occasionally has sex with, Tim doesn’t sound too enthusiastic about his presence. “Bruce wants me to do the business equivalent of sucking Roman Sionis’s cock. I told him to fuck off.”

Tim growls slightly as he seats himself beside Jason. “He knows your history with him. How could he?” 

“Business is business.” Jason shrugs and rolls over to gaze upon the dragon. Tim’s blue eyes glitter like the richest of sapphires and his dark talons knead idly at the strings of Jason’s tunic. 

“I’d offer to eat him for you, but I think Sionis would upset my stomach.” 

Jason pulls Tim atop of him, and places his hands on either side of his narrow hips. Tim is small for a dragon, but no less deadly or beautiful for it. “I appreciate the thought. I really do.”

Tim leans down and kisses him lazily. “How long are you hiding here then?” 

“I told Bruce I was coming to live with you. Didn’t give an end date.” 

The dragon sits up and glares down at his human lover. “Excuse you, but this is my cave. At least ask first.” 

Jason hauls him back down, and swipes his tongue against the tip of Tim’s pointed ear, making the dragon shiver against him. “That’s what I’m doing.” 

“I think I’ll need more persuasion.” 

“Gladly.”

 


	26. Magic AU (JayTim)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from anon on Tumblr

“This needs to come off NOW.” Tim tugs futilely at the floppy blue bow in his hair. The whole outfit he’s currently stuck in needs to disappear actually, but he’ll settle for the bow. He can rock a skirt, no problem. But the magic that replaced the Red Robin uniform with this monstrosity won’t let him remove a thing.  
  
“I dunno,” Jason drawls lazily, eyeing Tim’s legs closely. “It brings out your eyes.”  
  
Tim resists the urge to smack his boyfriend. “My eyes are up here.”   
  
Jason rakes his gaze up and over the short frilly skirt that barely manages to cover Tim’s ass and takes in the thin camisole and sailor tie. The camisole leaves little to the imagination. He stops at Tim’s chest and stares. “You sure? Or are you just happy to see me?”  
  
“Fucking magic,” Tim swears and stalks across the floor of the cave to stand behind Bruce’s chair. He doesn’t miss how the skirt flounces as he walks. “Bruce, where’s Zatanna? Do I need to call Zach?”  
  
Bruce doesn’t even turn around. “She’ll be here soon.”  
  
Tim growls and spins around, something that’s all too easy with the heeled boot he’s wearing. Jason is still staring intently at him but now Damian has entered the cave from the Manor above. He’s staring in horror at him.   
  
“Drake, you look like a harlot.”  
  
“No, he looks like one of those Sailor Scouts,” Jason corrects him as he waggles his eyebrows at Tim. “What was the blue one called?”  
  
“I don’t know and I don’t care,” Tim snaps as he tries to shove his way past them. Damian steps aside hastily, his concern over this magic being contagious rather obvious. “I’ll be in the library. Someone call me when Zatanna gets here.”   
  
Tim can feel Jason’s eyes boring into him as he climbs the stairs. Or more specifically, the bright blue panties that barely cover his ass.   
  
He makes it to the privacy of the library and leans against the door, drawing in a deep breath as the silence closes in around him. A lot of rather humiliating things have happened since he became Robin, but this one takes the cake. “I hate magic,” Tim mutters as he crosses the room to flop bonelessly on one of the couches, good manners be damned.   
  
There’s a knock at the door. Tim ignores it, already knowing who it is.   
  
Jason enters cautiously and locks the door behind him. “Hey,” he says slowly. “I’m sorry about before. It’s just...you’re like a fucking wet dream right now. Do you have any idea how hot you look?”  
  
Tim cracks open an eye. The apology goes a long way towards appeasing his mood and he’s now willing to consider some of the more entertaining aspects of his current situation. “No, but I’m sure you’re going to enlighten me,” he purrs in what he’s been told is his sexy voice.   
  
It works.   
  
Jason crosses the room in a few long strides and kneels beside the couch. He doesn’t touch but his eyes are once again on the hemline of Tim’s skirt. “I want to devour you,” he replies horsely. “Suck you through those panties.”  
  
Tim shifts and makes sure his interest is clear to see. “You’ll have to since they don’t come off anymore than this bow does.”

 


	27. Star Trek AU (TimKon)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from anon over on Tumblr

Tim sits quietly in the corner of the massive study hall, researching information on the Romulans for his xeno-politics class. It’s interesting and all, but it’s not exactly why he joined Starfleet. His core curriculum is science and engineering, not politics. Still, it’s a class all cadets have to take so he may as well make the most of it.   
  
It would all be much easier if his partner for this particular assignment ever tears himself away from his adoring fans and deigns to cross the room to do his homework. Tim knew when his teacher assigned Kon-El to be his research partner that this would happen. The prince of the House of El is the first Kryptonian to ever apply for Starfleet, so there’s already a ton of attention on him. He seems to thrive on it though and almost always has a crowd around him while in public.   
  
Tim wonders how anyone can live like that.   
  
The study hour is almost over by the time Kon-El joins him. “Heya, Drake! What’s shakin’?”   
  
Tim pointedly glances at his watch. “You’re late.”   
  
“What? No, I’m not!” Kon-El protests.   
  
“Yes, you are.” Tim starts packing up his things. “I’ve got class to get to. Perhaps you can try again tomorrow.”  
  
“Aw, come on, Drake. Don’t be like that.” Kon-El crosses his arms and pouts charmingly. “I gotta pull my own weight around here.”  
  
“Then pull it instead of spending all your time flirting. I don’t have time to wait for you.” With that parting shot, Tim starts walking away.   
  
Or he tries to, but Kon-El catches him by the shoulder. Tim glares at the touch but the prince ignores him. “What is your problem?” he asks crossly. “Don’t you know who I am?”  
  
Tim smirks somewhat viciously. “You’re Cadet Kon-El. That’s the only title that matters here.”   
  
The punch comes out of nowhere and Tim flies back across the table he’d just been working at. But he manages to roll at the end and lands on his feet rather his ass unceremoniously on the floor. “Something wrong, Cadet?” he snarls.   
  
“You will address me accordingly,” Kon-El snaps, his blue eyes blazing in fury. He starts to round the table.  
  
“No, he addressed you correctly, Cadet. Stand down.”   
  
Tim comes to attention at the sight of Admiral Wayne standing behind the Kryptonian prince. Kon-El slowly turns around and stiffens when he sees the man. It had been Admiral Wayne who negotiated the current treaty with Krypton and is said to be good friends with their king, Kal-El.   
  
“Admiral Wayne,” Kon-El bites out accordingly. He still doesn’t salute him.   
  
“Cadet Drake, at ease. Care to explain why Cadet Kon-El felt the need to punch you in a room full of people?”   
  
Tim swallows but answers without stuttering. “I refused to call him prince, sir.”   
  
Admiral Wayne’s pale blue eyes land back on Kon-El. “While you are in Starfleet, you will be addressed by Starfleet rank only. You know this.”   
  
“I do, but...”  
  
“But what?” It’s clear the Admiral isn’t about to buy whatever excuse he’s about to be sold.   
  
Tim waits to see if Kon-El picks up on it too.   
  
He doesn’t. “But he’s being rude.”   
  
Admiral Wayne’s attention shifts to Tim. “Were you?”  
  
He shrugs. “I’ve been waiting for over an hour for him to help with his part of our group project. He didn’t even make his way over to the table until I started packing up for my next class. I may have been a bit impatient but I don’t think I was rude.”   
  
Kon-El tries to protest again but Admiral Wayne holds up a hand, effectively silencing him. “I see. Cadet Drake, you’re dismissed. Cadet Kon-El, come with me.”  
  
Tim doesn’t have to be told twice. He bolts.   
  
~*~*~  
  
The next day as Tim leaves his dormitory, Kon-El is standing in front of the building sans his typical entourage. It’s clear he’s pissed off if the scowl on his face is any indication.   
  
What a great way to start the day.   
  
Tim tries to evade him but the other man catches up quickly. He doesn’t say anything but takes a place at Tim’s side.   
  
“What’s going on?” he finally asks after the Kryptonian prince doesn’t speak up.   
  
Kon-El looks like he’s swallowed a bitter pill. “Admiral Wayne says I’m to follow you around and learn how you do things. He spoke very highly of you and said I could learn from you.”  
  
Tim stops short. “You’re joking.”  
  
“Nope.”   
  
“Well, shit.”   
  
“That’s what I said.”   
  
Kon-El shadows Tim closely for a month. The only time they were apart was at night when they returned to their respective dormitories. What surprises Tim the most by the end of the month is that he’s actually come to like the guy. Kon-El, or Kon as he prefers to be called by people he considers friends, has a killer sense of humor, if somewhat crude, but they both chalk that up to Kryptonian being a rather stilted language and not everything translates correctly. They learn a lot about each other, which is probably what Admiral Wayne intended when he stuck them together.   
  
“I guess today’s your last day with me,” Tim says over dinner in the cafeteria. They’ve got a small table tucked away in the corner by the window, his preferred spot.   
  
“Yeah,” Kon replies lazily, but he’s poking at his food, a sure sign that he’s distracted.   
  
“Any plans for the return of your free time?” Tim asks carefully. He’s fairly certain he didn’t upset the other man but while he’s learned a lot about Kryptonian culture in the last month, he’s by no means an expert.   
  
Kon glances at him and smirks. It makes Tim’s stomach tremble ever so slightly as butterflies stir. There’s no mistaking the intent behind those inhumanly blue eyes. “Oh, I got plans. I’m going to ask someone out on a date.”   
  
Cue the disappointment. Of course Kon wouldn’t think of Tim like that. They’ve just barely managed to become friends. “Oh?” Tim tries to sound uninterested and thinks he succeeds.   
  
“Yep,” Kon states. He’s clearly pleased. “I’ve been wanting to for over a month, but didn’t have the...balls?” Earth slang is still a work in progress for him.  
  
Tim nods faintly. Over a month. Definitely no chance of it being him then. “Well, good luck with that. I hope they say yes.”  
  
Kon’s still eyeing him closely but there’s a hint of a laugh he’s trying to hide. “I hope so too.”   
  
~*~*~  
  
Tim wakes up feeling like he barely slept the night before. Glancing at the time, he grimaces. That’s because he didn’t. He isn’t looking forward to seeing who will be gracing Kon’s arm for the foreseeable future.   
  
This is why caffeine is a thing. Tim chugs his coffee as he dresses and makes himself presentable. Starfleet doesn’t tolerate slovenliness and while his heart may feel like it’s breaking, his head is already telling him to snap out of it.   
  
Outside, Tim blinks against the surprisingly clear morning, very uncommon for San Francisco. The sun is just bright enough he wishes for a pair of sunglasses. He starts walking but is pulled up short when a strong hand grasps his shoulder.   
  
“Dude, where’re you going?”   
  
It’s Kon.   
  
Tim whips around in surprise. “Kon?”   
  
“Morning!” his friend replies brightly and slings his arm over Tim’s shoulders. “I got you coffee.”  
  
This is a first. “Thanks?” Tim asks warily. “What are you doing here?”   
  
Kon shakes his head. “You really are clueless, aren’t you?”  
  
“About what?”   
  
“About this.” Kon leans over and places a warm kiss on Tim’s cheek.   
  
Tim knows he’s blushing bright red. He can’t help it. It’s a thing with him. “Oh,” is all he manages to squeak out. “You like me?”  
  
“Yeah. That day in the study hall? I was asking everyone what’s the best way to ask a human out on a date.”  
  
“Oh,” Tim says again. “But you punched me that day.”  
  
“I was nervous and then I got mad when it seemed you didn’t like me. At all.” Kon tugs Tim closer as they start walking.   
  
“So you punched me?” Tim’s voice gets stronger as his indignation grows. “That a Kryptonian thing?”   
  
“It’s a me thing,” Kon admits with a wave of his free hand. “So, you want to go on a date?”  
  
Tim stalls by sipping his coffee. Kon is incredibly close and looks so hopeful...”Yeah. I do.”   
  
“Great! Do you like pin-ball? I found this old fashioned arcade...”

 


	28. Boss/Coworker AU (JayTim)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from anon over on Tumblr.

Jason is the first to admit that he’s woefully under qualified for any position of authority within Wayne Enterprises, let alone acting CEO while Bruce is off on one of his trips. Sure, Jason has a college degree and all, but it’s in communications, not business or finance. He hasn’t the first clue of what he should be doing.  
  
Thank god for Tim.  
  
Tim Drake is Bruce’s long suffering executive assistant. He mostly works with Lucius to keep things going but when Bruce is away and a Wayne signature is needed, he comes to Jason rather than Dick. As he put it when Jason once asked why “Because you actually read what’s placed in front of you.”  
  
Jason has a suspicion that Dick just signs whatever. It’s a good thing Tim is above reproach.  
  
He yawns widely, jaw cracking loudly in the silence of Bruce’s office. It’s late and he’s been at it now for twelve hours straight. Why on earth did Damian decide now would be a good time to pull some bullshit stunt at his university, one that requires Bruce to fly across the Atlantic to England? It’s annual report time and Jason’s head is swimming under all the numbers, figures, and charts that Tim presents to him for review.  
  
God, if he’s this tired then how must Tim be feeling? Deciding it’s time for a stretch, Jason rises and leaves the office.  
  
Tim is passed out at his desk, facedown in a pile of paper and drool. Even fast asleep, he looks utterly exhausted.  
  
Jason stares a moment and resists the urge to trace the sharp line of Tim’s cheekbone. Now is not the time to flirt with his father’s right hand man, even if it’s something he does all the time when Tim is awake. Still, the young man needs to be moved because if he stays like that at all for an extended period of time, his back will scream holy hell when he wakes up.  
  
The angle is a challenge but Jason manages to pick Tim up and carry him back into Bruce’s office to lay him out on the leather couch. There’s no pillow, but Jason grabs his long abandoned suit jacket and lays it over the sleeping man.  
  
He doesn’t stir once.  
  
Jason takes that as his cue to escape for the night. Before he does, he takes a chance and leans over Tim, his lips brushing lightly against the top of his head. “Sleep well, Tim,” he whispers.  
  
~*~*~  
  
The next morning, Jason arrives early with coffee in hand. Normally he eschews the stuff but Tim is turning him into a believer. That and the crazy hours. He barely slept six hours before his alarm woke him up.  
  
Early as he is, Tim is still beats him here.  
  
Jason stares, noticing the crisp new suit Tim’s wearing. “Did you even leave last night or do you keep a spare suit around here somewhere?”  
  
Tim doesn’t pay any attention to the question, his gaze locked on the taller of the two cups in Jason’s hands. “Is one of those for me?”  
  
“Yes, but don’t go all rabid dog on me.” Jason laughs as Tim still tries to lunge over the desk. He’s normally all cool and professional so he’s either exceptionally sleep deprived or just comfortable enough around Jason to let his mask drop.  
  
Jason hopes it’s the latter.  
  
“Thanks,” Tim mutters as he sips his coffee and makes his way back to the desk. “And thanks for putting me to bed last night. I’m sorry you had to do that.” He glances over his shoulder at Jason.  
  
“It wasn’t a problem,” he replies, brushing it aside. “I think your pride appreciates not having an aching back this morning.”  
  
He gets a laugh out of Tim. “It does. Now get to work. There’s more stuff on Bruce’s desk for you to review.”  
  
Jason huffs and does what he’s told. “More shit for you to explain later,” he comments as he passes by the desk.  
  
“This is the last of it,” Tim offers in reply. “I think we can be done by noon if nothing else comes up. Which it shouldn’t because I’ve left strict instructions that unless the building is burning down, we are not to be disturbed.”  
  
“Thank god.” It’s a sign of how tired Jason is of this crap that he doesn’t take the rather obvious opening Tim left him to flirt or make a crude remark. He enters the office and settles in.  
  
Noon needs to get here faster.  
  
It’s closer to one by the time Jason is done reviewing everything and signing off on it. He sends an encrypted copy to Bruce to read over when he has a chance (and a secure connection).  
  
“Christ, is it like this every year?” he asks Tim, who’s been very patiently explaining data points to him for the last three hours. The remains of their lunch is scattered across the large desk in whatever available space they could find.  
  
“Not usually,” Tim replies. His glasses are perched on the end of his nose and his carefully coiffed hair is a mess from how many times his fingers have combed through it. “Bruce can read financial reports.”  
  
“Yeah, yeah, I suck, I know,” Jason tries not to take it personally. “I like to think I do a better job than Dick does though.”  
  
Tim chuckles at the comment. “Yeah, you do. He never sits still for more than five minutes.”  
  
“Very true.” Jason stretches and stands, his back popping as he does. “Shit, that felt good.”  
  
“I bet.” Tim rises as well and starts shuffling papers around, arranging them into organized stacks. “Any plans for this afternoon now that you’re free to go?” he asks.  
  
“You’re free to go too, you know.” Jason grins at the startled look on Tim’s face. “Bruce’s orders. Something about too much overtime already?”  
  
“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” But Tim is smiling too. “Plans?” he asks again.  
  
“A nap, a beer, and a shower. Not necessarily in that order.” Jason waggles his eyebrows. He can flirt now that the real work is done. “Care to join me?”  
  
Tim picks up the papers. “Two out three don’t sound so bad.” He laughs at Jason’s stunned reaction. “I’ll meet you downstairs in twenty minutes. Don’t keep me waiting or I may change my mind.”  
  
He leaves the office before Jason’s brain has a chance to come back online. “Which two?” he shouts, even as the door clicks firmly shut. “ _Which two!?_ ”

 


	29. Private Investigator AU (JayTim)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from themandylion over on Tumblr

“Do you always eat like a bird?” Jason asks, ostensibly to make conversation since two people sitting in a restaurant not speaking draws more attention than two who are.  

But he’s actually kind of curious, and a lot nosy, which is good considering the line of work he’s in. It gets the job done. His partner for the night though is still a conundrum even after working together for four months. Tim is quiet and meek as a mouse in the office, but out here in the field, it’s like a switch has been flipped and all Jason has been hearing is snark and sass for the last two hours.  

He likes it.

“I eat like a normal person,” Tim replies somewhat primly as he dabs his napkin at the corner of his mouth. 

“No, you eat like a bird.” 

Tim sighs and glares at him. “You want to go there? Fine. You eat like someone who never learned how to use a fork properly.”

“Buuuurn.” Jason doesn’t take offense though because there is some truth to it. Before he can get a really good retort out though, he spots their target rising from his table, holding out a hand for his date. “Looks like we don’t get dessert, Timmers.” 

“Thank, God,” Tim mutters. Still, he takes a final few hasty bites of his steak. His cheeks bulge out slightly and Jason stares. There’s one question answered. His partner looks great with his mouth full. 

He just wishes it were full of something else. Bruce doesn’t exactly discourage fraternizing in the office but he doesn’t encourage it either. Dick and Babs are the exception as they’ve been with him since time began. 

Jason takes a few last bites of his prime rib and wishes he had time to grab a to-go box because this shit is melt-in-your-mouth tender and oh so good. He makes a mental note of the restaurant name to come here again sometime. Bonus points if it’s on Bruce’s dime. 

They paid the bill as soon as the food arrived, so leaving and surruptitiously trailing their target is easy. In the car, Jason drives while Tim monitors the GPS tracker they placed on the target’s car earlier. They don’t go very far when the car pulls up alongside one of the many entrances into Robinson Park.  

“Aww, isn’t that sweet,” Jason coos mockingly. “A stroll in the park.” 

“He’s carrying a blanket. I bet there’s going to be more than just walking.” Tim checks his camera and his telephoto lens. Out of everyone in the office, the quiet young man takes the best pictures. They’re still not sure how he manages to do it, but some of the ones he’s provided have proven to be gamechangers for some rather sticky cases. 

“Yay, free porn,” Jason says as he parks the car on the other side of the street in front of a brownstone and gets out. He stretches, looking for all the world like a man who’s just getting home from a long day at work.  

Tim is a little hesitant as he joins his partner. “Um, just how many pictures of this do I need to take?” 

“Enough to prove this asshat is cheating on his wife. At least they’re in public, so this is going to make taking those pictures that much easier.” Tim still doesn’t look convinced, but he gamely trails after Jason. He gives his shorter partner a thoughtful look. “This your first time?” he asks curiously. 

“My first time?” It’s hard to tell under the intermittent park lights, but Jason is pretty sure Tim is blushing. “I’ve had sex before, if that’s what you’re asking.” He sounds a little snappish. 

“Nope, not what I meant, but good to know.” Jason grins and doesn’t care if Tim sees it. “I mean, have you ever put those little paparazzi stalker skills of yours to good use and caught someone having sex on film before?” 

“No,” Tim replies sullenly. “I did film that crazy bachelorette party last month though, the one where the bride had a little too much fun on the stripper pole.” 

“I saw those.” Jason nods approvingly. “She has some great tits. Well, you’ve moved on from tits to cock. Think you can handle that?” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively. Tim is definitely blushing now. “If you’ve never seen one besides your own, I could be convinced to help you out with that.” 

But Tim surprises him and smacks Jason hard in the ribs. “I said I’ve had sex before. I didn’t say it was with a woman.” With that parting shot, Tim presses on ahead and off the sidewalk, quietly trailing after their target as he and his date giggle their way off the beaten path. 

Jason gapes and has to adjust his pants a bit because _damn_. He’s thought Tim is cute in his nerdy way since day one, but now? Now he’s _interesting._

 


	30. Private Investigator AU (JayKyle)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr prompt from anon.

“You used to be a cop?”   
  
Kyle is used to this. Really. He knows he doesn’t exactly fit the mold of what a PI looks or acts like. Probably the ink staining his fingers and the paint smear on his shirt. His office is also his studio.   
  
“Yes, I used to be a cop.”   
  
The man on the other side of his desk looks like a bruiser if his muscled physique and rough good looks are anything to go by. The leather jacket helps. Kyle’s fingers itch for a pencil. That jaw and those stormy blue-green eyes are screaming to be captured on paper.   
  
“Whatever,” the man huffs as he sits down. “Who am I to judge a book by its cover?”   
  
Kyle immediately reassessed his opinion of the man. There’s a level of complexity he didn’t expect. “So how may I help you, Mr...?”  
  
“Todd. Jason Todd. Just call me Jason, anything else makes me feel old.”  
  
“Same.” Kyle is surprised at the name though. He may be in New York, but Gotham isn’t all that far away, so the names of Gotham’s movers and shakers are well known to anyone who follows the news. Unless he’s completely mistaken, this is Jason Todd-Wayne sitting before him. What is one of the Wayne heirs doing here?   
  
Jason shifts in the rickety chair, his long legs splaying out as he tries to find a more comfortable angle. Kyle’s attention is drawn to those thighs. Man, oh man. He wonders if he should ask for payment in modeling services instead of cash. Would a Wayne do that? He’d sign a privacy agreement in a heartbeat.   
  
“So, Kyle,” Jason tests out the name. “I understand you’re the guy to see about some art.”   
  
“I’ve got connections to the art world, yes,” Kyle agrees. “Mostly publishing but I know my way around an auction house.”  
  
He listens as Jason starts talking about a series of black and white photographs that were apparently stolen as part of an inside job from the Wayne penthouse in New York. The police haven’t got a clue as to who could have done it. But what Kyle finds most interesting is that Jason doesn’t admit to being a Wayne himself. Rather, he’s presenting himself as someone working on their behalf.   
  
Why?  
  
The case by itself is interesting enough, but Kyle definitely finds his client more so. He asks some questions, finally ending with the most obvious. “What do these prints look like?”  
  
Jason wordlessly pulls out a small tablet from some hidden pocket and swipes at the screen.   
  
Kyle lets out a low whistle. Okay, he can see why the Waynes want these back. They’re series of three nude photos of the man before him. Tastefully done to be sure and absolutely stunning, they capture the raw masculinity of Jason but Kyle also has to give massive props to the photographer. His fingers itch even more.   
  
“Who took these?” he can’t help but ask.   
  
Jason glances sadly at the tablet. “My fiancé. Or former fiancé. He was killed in an accident a few years ago.”  
  
Kyle nods slowly. “I’m sorry. He must have been an incredible person. These are some of the most beautiful pictures I’ve ever seen.” He hands the tablet back to Jason. “For that alone, I’ll take this case. One artist to another.”   
  
“Thanks,” Jason replies simply. “So, what’s next?”   
  
After a story like that, Kyle’s initial flippant request for modeling is the epitome of shallow. But maybe when he’s managed to solve this damn thing and recover those photos, he’ll have enough credit he can ask. “Now we’re going to get down to business, Jason. Here’s what I’m going to need from you.”

 


	31. Fake Relationship AU (TimSteph)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I'm really behind the curve on sending in a prompt for the AU drabbles, but since you invited me to... (I know it's not your favorite trope, and this isn't my all-time favorite pairing, so here's a challenge for both of us) --> Fake Relationship AU, StephTim, please ;3 <3 --redrobinfection (christmasrivers)

Tim stares blankly at the newspaper Stephanie just marched into his office to slam on his desk. He pushes his glasses up his nose and reads but it still doesn’t compute.   
  
“Okay, I give. What am I supposed to be looking at?”   
  
His friend growls, grabs the paper and flips it over. “This played out so much better in my head,” she admits somewhat sheepishly.   
  
The headline Tim is supposed to see is now glaringly obvious. “Shit.”   
  
“That’s what I said!”   
  
“We aren’t even dating!”  
  
“I know!”  
  
“How the hell are we engaged?” Tim picks up the paper and starts reading. How has he not heard about this before now? His phone should be lighting up with all kinds of alerts, notices, and jokes from his crazy family. “I just got out of one fake engagement.”  
  
“And Tam blesses you for that, I’m sure.” Stephanie flops down in the chair on the other side of his desk.   
  
The article even has a picture. Tim groans because he knows exactly when that had to have been taken. “Dammit. Of all the nights to catch us on film, it had to be that night.”   
  
It was the night Stephanie had tried on one of the rings they keep in the costume closest when they have to go undercover. The ring had gotten stuck on her finger when she was messing around but they didn’t have enough time to get it off because she was supposed to be Tim’s date for the charity event he couldn’t get out of going to and needed a plus one. In the picture, Tim had just dribbled some olive oil onto Steph’s finger and slipped the ring off.   
  
Not put it on.   
  
“No kidding. See if I ever go out with you again, even if it’s someplace I get free food.”   
  
“You’re a starving college student, you jump at the chance to eat anything besides what’s on your budget. Of which, you know you have access to funds...”   
  
Steph cuts Tim off. “Blah blah blah. I prefer to make it on my own dime and you know it. The suit’s one thing, my living expenses are another.”  
  
He does know this. Doesn’t stop him from bringing it up.   
  
“So, what’s the plan, nerd wonder?”   
  
Tim settles back in his chair and thinks. It’s been awhile since he’s messed with the media. Since any of them have really, so it’s small wonder they picked up on this. He stares at the picture some more. It’s a good picture. Steph is smiling and he’s laughing. They’re both relaxed and carefree for once.   
  
In the back of his mind, Tim quietly wishes the ring on her finger was his. Perhaps...no. That bridge burned long ago.   
  
Or has it? If he plays this right, it could give him a chance to do the groveling he knows he needs to do. And it would give them both a chance to explore the possibilities while still giving either of them an out. Assuming Steph doesn’t figure out what he’s doing that is. Would it work though? A fake relationship ending up as a real one only works in stories, not real life.   
  
He glances over the rim of his glasses at Stephanie. She’s waiting patiently for him to announce his plan. As much as she may joke about being his preferred arm candy, he knows she does it as a favor to him. To spend time with him outside the capes and masks.   
  
It’s their time.   
  
Perhaps this isn’t as much of a long shot as he first thought. It’s a risk but since when has he backed down from a challenge?  
  
Tim grins and puts down the paper. “What are your thoughts on being at least my fake girlfriend for the next few months? We neither confirm or deny the engagement. You can even raid the jewelry box again swap out rings every time we go out to mess with everyone’s heads.”  
  
Without even missing a beat, Steph replies, “You’re crazy.”  
  
Crazy for you, Tim wants to say. “Ever since I got a brick smashed in my face.”   
  
She laughs and shakes her head. “Can I keep that amethyst ring? Alfred says it’s a costume piece.”   
  
He knows the ring and how much Steph likes it. “Deal.”   
  
And who knows, maybe that ring will be real at the end of this.

 


	32. Domestic AU (JayTim)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright. Here’s my ask for a Drabble. Domestic AU (wait for it....) JayTim. Possible side of epiphany!jason suddenly realizing Tim loves him. This plot bunny brought to you by: Mostly the Han/Leia exchange “I love you” “I know” except Leia is played by Tim. (from myfavrobin)

Jason stretches out on the sofa in his apartment and tries to read. It’s hard because a) there’s a massive cast on his lower leg that’s propped up on a few pillows to keep it elevated and b) Tim is in the kitchen making dinner.   
  
Making dinner while chatting on the phone with Kon and excitedly spazzing out over some game they’re playing together online.   
  
Under normal circumstances, Jason wouldn’t be concerned. When he isn’t sporting a cast, he can hover and make sure Tim doesn’t get distracted from the task at hand and just slide in when his boyfriend spaces out. But these aren’t normal circumstances. He is bound to this sofa, his crutches on the other side of the room, purposefully moved there by Tim with strict orders to don’t even try to get up, let alone walk.   
  
His concern over the state of his kitchen grows the longer the call lasts. He swears the Superclone is doing this to him on purpose.   
  
And people call him the asshole.   
  
Jason manages to read the same page five times before he throws the book down in frustration. “Hey, Tim! Gimme my crutches, I need to take a piss.”   
  
Classy? No. Does it get Tim to finally end the call with Kon? Yes. He calls it a win as Tim makes his way across the room with his sole mode of mobility.   
  
“Need a hand up?” Tim asks as he hands the crutches over.   
  
“I got it.” Jason can’t help but notice Tim doesn’t return to the kitchen as he struggles to stand. “Don’t you have something you’re supposed to doing?”   
  
Tim grins cheekily at him. “It’s fine, Jay. I’m not completely incompetent in the kitchen.”  
  
“That’s up for debate.”    
  
By the time Jason returns, there are two tray tables set up in front of the sofa and dinner is waiting for him. Tim is standing there looking proud of himself and holding a bottle of wine.   
  
He gapes, absolutely shocked that Tim managed to pull this off under his nose. “How...?”  
  
Tim chuckles as he sets the wine down and helps Jason take a seat. “I think you’re the one who’s forgotten what today is.”  
  
“Uh...” Nothing immediately comes to mind.   
  
Tim rolls his eyes and tosses his phone to Jason. “Check the date. And here I thought you were supposed to be the closet romantic.”  
  
Jason taps the screen and winces. Yeah, he apparently lost a few days somewhere, probably around the time he had surgery on his ankle. “I thought I had a few more days,” he admits quietly. “Tim, I’m sorry.”   
  
“It’s okay. I figured as much.” Tim sits down next to him and picks up the wine bottle.   
  
The meal is delicious and causes Jason to reassess Tim’s level of skill in the kitchen. “YouTube or Alfred?” he finally asks after cleaning his plate.   
  
“YouTube,” Tim replies as he tops off their wine glasses. “Because I need the visual aids.”  
  
“Did you tackle dessert?”   
  
“Yup!” Tim bounces to his feet and clears their plates. “You’re going to be so proud of me.”   
  
Jason already is. The meal was perfection.   
  
Tim putters around in the kitchen for a few minutes and returns with two martini glasses full of dark chocolate mousse topped with raspberries and a little sprig of mint. “I will admit to calling Alfred for help when I couldn’t get the egg whites stiff enough.”   
  
“Did he tell you to turn the mixer up to a higher speed?” Jason quips as he raises his spoon to his mouth. He freezes at the taste, eyes widening in surprise. “You boozed it up.”   
  
“Sure did,” Tim agrees with a sly smile. “And yes, that was the first thing Alfred told me too.”   
  
Tastebuds dancing, Jason savors every bite. Good food is like good sex as far as he’s concerned. He leans back against the sofa cushions and rests a hand over his full belly. “This was amazing, Tim. Thanks for everything. And for not being butt-hurt that I forgot our anniversary.”   
  
Tim leans over and presses a soft kiss against the corner of Jason’s mouth. “I know you didn’t forget on purpose. Besides, it’s nice being able to surprise you for a change.”   
  
Jason smirks and tugs Tim back in for a proper kiss, one that shows his appreciation for everything he’s done for him. It soon evolves into Tim straddling him and tugging both their shirts off, pressing skin against skin while fingers trace scars and fading bruises with gentle strokes. Jason relaxes even further, enjoying the sheer comfort and contentment he feels in this moment.   
  
“I love you,” he says quietly. The words slip out, unintended perhaps but after sparing a brief moment to consider, Jason knows he means them.   
  
“I know,” Tim replies, drawing back to gaze down at him, pale blue eyes slightly dilated under the swell of emotion and desire.  
  
“You know?” That’s not exactly what Jason expects Tim to respond with.   
  
“Yes.” Tim punctuates his statement with another kiss. “Because I love you too.”   
  
Oh. Well. That’s fine then. Jason tugs Tim closer and wraps his arms around him to hold him close. He never wants to let go. Yeah, he's a sap. Whatever.

 


	33. Tarzan AU (TimKon)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tarzan AU prompt from anon.

“This isn’t what it looks like,” Tim says with some urgency, batting Kon’s hand away from his head for the umpteenth time in the last hour.   
  
Cassie just laughs and snaps another picture. “Oh, I think it’s exactly what it looks like. I always thought Kon was raised by apes rather than Cadmus and now it looks like I’m right.”  
  
“I thought you were my friend,” Tim protests as he tries again to escape from the gorilla-like hold Kon has him. He’ll be able to do it eventually. Without the Kryptonite even.   
  
“I am but in times like these, blackmail material comes first. It’s so rare I get any dirt on you.”  
  
“Cassie.” Tim’s not whining. He’s not. He’s Red Robin and Red Robin does not whine.   
  
“Slow your roll. I called Gar already. He’s on his way and can translate ape for us.”   
  
Tim wants to smack his head against a wall. But he can’t because Kon is still wrapped around him and making little gorilla noises that Tim supposes mean something but he isn’t fluent in ape.   
  
“You’re like Tarzan and Jane,” Cassie snickers.   
  
Kon ooks in reply and ruffles Tim’s hair again.   
  
He bats at the offending appendage to no avail. “No. I refuse to be Jane. I’m not a damsel in distress.”   
  
“Well, you’re definitely not Tarzan.”   
  
Tim’s retort is lost as Kon hauls him into his arms and carries him off to the blanket nest he made earlier in the corner by the large potted plant. It’s the only remotely jungle like place in the common room of Titans Tower.   
  
“Kon!” Tim shouts and beats on Kon’s back. “Put me down!”   
  
He’s dropped onto a pillow and his best friend-turned-gorilla curls up next to him. He beams in pride.   
  
Cassie laughs and lowers her phone. She must have recorded the whole thing. Tim vows then and there he’s wiping it completely. “You sure about that whole damsel thing? Kon seems to think you are.”   
  
“Kon is under a spell and is not in his right mind.”   
  
“I called Raven too.”   
  
“Yoo-hoo! I’m HERE!” Garfield announces himself in a loud voice.   
  
Tim groans, which has Kon hovering protectively. Not literally as he seems to have forgotten how to fly.   
  
Gar enters the common room, takes one look at Tim and Kon, and starts laughing. “Oh man! He got whammied good!”  
  
Cassie nods in agreement. “I hope you can speak ape because Kon’s gone all Tarzan on poor Jane over there.”   
  
“I am not Jane!”   
  
“Yeah, you are,” Gar and Cassie chorus.   
  
Tim glowers as Gar changes form, a massive green gorilla appearing before them. He starts making the same noises Kon’s been emitting since he got hit with the spell earlier today. Kon gets all excited at someone finally able to understand him and ooks back.   
  
It’s not long before Gar starts laughing uproariously. “Oh, man. You’ve been holding out on us, Tim!”   
  
This does not sound good. Tim sighs and waits for it.   
  
“He says you’re his mate and that he’s trying to take care of you. He also says you’re being a pain in the ass about it.”  
  
Cassie’s eyes widen in shock. “Tim...You do know the real reason why Kon and I ultimately broke up, right?”   
  
When she puts it that way... “I do.”   
  
“Good. Has Kon done anything about it?”   
  
Gar snickers and bounces in excitement as Tim hedges. “Oh, come on! We all know Kon’s wanted in your tights for ages. Spill it, Tim!”   
  
Tim’s ears are burning a bright red. He can feel it. “Once.”   
  
One night that was possibly the best night of his life save for when he became Robin. But after that time, Tim didn’t let it happen again, no matter how much Kon protested or tried to convince him dating a teammate isn’t a bad thing.   
  
Exhibit A stands before them with a slightly hurt smile on her face. This is why it’s a bad idea.  
  
“Let me guess. You’re overthinking it and pushing him away,” Cassie theorizes, hand on her hip as she shakes her head. “Tim, stop holding back. Kon loves both of us; I’m the one who isn’t able to share. I accept that and it’s on me for why he and I didn’t work out.”  
  
“What if I don’t want to share either?” Tim jabs right back.   
  
“Then that’s a bridge you’ll have to cross when or if it happens. Until then, let Kon love you. Hera knows you deserve it.”  
  
Kon chooses that moment to cuddle up behind Tim and haul him into his lap. He’s surrounded by strength and warmth, just as he was that incredible night as he and his best friend explored what else could be possible between them.   
  
Tim is a master strategist. He knows when to admit defeat. Or at least when to retreat and regroup his battle plans. “Fine. You win, you big ape.” He kisses Kon lightly on his mouth. “We can talk when Raven fixes this.”   
  
“Ook?” It’s hard to mistake the uncertainty in Kon’s voice for anything else.   
  
“Gar, translate please?”   
  
The still laughing ape does and Kon’s expression changes in a heartbeat and he clutches Tim tighter against him.   
  
“Ook!”

 


	34. Prompt #6 (JayTim)

Jason is used to Tim doing weird things. The more sleep deprived he is, the stranger they are. Like that time Tim thought making ramen noodles using coffee. Or the time he fell asleep with his eyes open. His fingers were still moving over the keyboard, which was creepy as hell.   
  
He took a screen shot of the gibberish for posterity. And proof.   
  
But this? Jason watches in horror as Tim sets the pot he just retrieved from the depths of his fridge on his stove to reheat. The rotten smell is enough to churn even his cast iron stomach.   
  
“Tim...You really...That’s not exactly meant to be eaten. Not anymore.” Jason’s pretty sure he saw something twitch in the pot.   
  
“‘S fine,” Tim slurs sleepily. “I made it recently.”  
  
“Yeah? How recently?”   
  
Tim’s nose crinkles as he tries to remember. The thought must be too complex because he just stands there and stares at the pot, not saying a word.   
  
Jason takes a chance and peers into the pot. “Oh, hell no. No fucking way are you eating that.” There’s more mold than anything else in there, the original contents unidentifiable. He yanks it off the stove, grabs the lid, and marches out the door to the garbage chute where he drops the entire thing down into the darkness where it belongs.   
  
When he returns to Tim’s apartment, he finds his boyfriend curled up on the kitchen floor asleep. Jason shakes his head as he turns off the stove. “You really are a moron,” he mutters fondly as he picks Tim up and puts him to bed.   
  
He then returns to the kitchen to do battle with Tim’s fridge. Because knowing him, there’s more than one pot to be dealt with.


	35. Prompt #15 (JayTim)

The world is ending. Again.   
  
Tim wonders when this became his norm. Probably right around the time he put on the mask. This time though, he doesn’t have his team around him. They’re all trying to save the world while he’s curled up in a bunker with a shattered leg and a web connection that is probably going to go kaput any second now.  
  
Which is bad because he is this close to finishing a virus that should at least disable the weapons this round of aliens are using to pummel the planet.   
  
Why are the Green Lanterns never around when they need them?  
  
The ground shakes from another blast. Tim keeps typing.   
  
Jason enters the bunker, mask only as his last helmet cracked a couple days before. “Red, we gotta go. I found a truck we can use to move you.”  
  
“Not yet,” Tim growls, not even looking up from his monitor. “Almost done.”  
  
“That shell almost landed right on top of this place. We need to move now.”  
  
Just a few more lines... “That just means they won’t strafe this area again for about six hours.” Tim’s been counting. He shifts on his makeshift chair and his leg screams at him as a sharp pain courses up the nerves.   
  
Jason doesn’t miss the grimace Tim allows, the only outward sign of his agony. “Red, Tim, babe, come on. You can work on this in the truck.”  
  
“Does the truck have internet? I need to be able to upload this.” Almost done. It has to work.   
  
Tim doesn’t miss the growl of frustration from his boyfriend. “You really are something else, you fucking nerd.”  
  
“You love me anyway. Five more minutes.”  
  
Jason growls again and starts pacing the room. “If we die, I’m going to kill you.”   
  
“Did you even hear what you just said?” Tim asks rhetorically. “And we won’t die. This is going to save us all.”


	36. Prompt #31 (Jason and Tim)

Tim refuses to cry. He’s a big boy and big boys don’t cry. That’s what his mom told him and he wants to listen to his mom, but right now, there’s a really big man in a red helmet standing in front of him swearing and and and...  
  
The man kneels and takes off the helmet revealing black hair and deep blue eyes. “Hey, kiddo. Sorry about that,” he says in a rough voice that still manages to sound kind. “You startled the hell outta me.”  
  
Tim sniffles and rubs the back of his hand over his nose. He doesn’t know where his handkerchief is. Or where his shirt is. He’s holding a pair of large pants up over his waist but nothing fits! “W-Where am I?” he asks in a shaky voice.   
  
“You’re in Gotham, kid. Tell me, is your name Tim?”   
  
How does he know? Tim nods vigorously.   
  
“Okay. You can call me Jay.” The man’s jacket slips open, revealing a large red bat over his chest.   
  
“Ohhhh,” Tim breathes. “Do you work with Batman?”   
  
Jay startles slightly and glances down at his chest. “Yeah, I do. Sometimes.”  
  
“I like Batman,” he says quietly.   
  
“I do too, but he can be a dick sometimes.” Jay shuffles a little closer and picks up something by Tim’s feet. It’s a golden belt. Two of them, connected by a bird emblem in the middle. He looks sad for a moment.   
  
“What’s that?” Tim asks.   
  
“They’re the oh-shit handles for someone I know.” Jay glances down at him. He’s taller than Tim even on his knees. “Tim, do you remember how you got here?”  
  
“Uhh...” Tim tries hard but it’s a blank. He remembers going to bed in the quiet apartment his parents have in the city, and Mrs. Mac made him a snack, and...but nothing about how he got here in this stinky alley with clothes that don’t fit. His eyes water again and this time, he can’t hold back the tears.  
  
“Hey, now. Why are you crying?” Jay rubs a gloved finger over Tim’s cheek, tracing a tear. “You’re with me. There’s no safer place to be in Gotham than right here. Unless it’s with Batman.”   
  
“I don’t know what’s going on!” Tim sobs loudly and hunkers down, trying to make himself smaller. It’s all so much and nothing makes sense and he’s all alone...  
  
Strong, warm arms wrap around him, and a hand settles over his head, holding him close. “I got you, Timmy. Shhh...It’s gonna be okay. We’ll figure this out.”   
  
Tim sniffs against the leather of Jay’s jacket. “How?” he says with a hiccup.  
  
“Well, to start, you’re coming with me. I know someone who makes the best hot chocolate in all of Gotham. We’ll ask him to make some for us and then we’re going to talk to Batman. I bet he’ll know what to do.”  
  
Jay sounds so certain that Tim can’t help but want to believe him. He looks up at him, hope returning. “I’m going to meet Batman?”  
  
“Yeah, you are. I betcha he’s gonna love helping you too.”   
  
“Does that mean I’m going to meet Robin too?”   
  
Jay’s face twists as he tries not to laugh. “You already have.”


	37. Prompt #41 (JayTim)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From Tuesday Nights

When Tim drinks, there’s usually a reason for it. Jason likes to think he knows most of the important dates in Tim’s life to figure out what is triggering this current bonding session with the whiskey, but he’s willing to admit he could be wrong and have something screwed up somewhere. It’s not like he wrote them down.   
  
He leans against the bar and watches Tim nurse his third whiskey and coke for the night. This is a record. He’s also had two straight shots of the stuff as well. Someone isn’t joking around tonight.   
  
Glancing at his watch, Jason decides no one else needs to see his boyfriend get shit-faced. He ducks under the bar and turns off his lights. Can’t lock the door yet since there’s still a few customers here, but they’re regulars so he’s not too worried. They know Jason. They like Tim.   
  
Returning to the bar, Jason not-so-subtley pours a glass of water for Tim and places it in front of him.   
  
Tim doesn’t even look up.   
  
Jason runs through his mental calendar again. Not the anniversary of his parent’s deaths. Damian hasn’t even been in jail a year yet, so it’s not that. Not that he thinks Tim would get drunk over his younger brother, but still. Dickie totally would. Tim gets a little morose over Mother’s Day and Father’s Day but he’s never done this.   
  
So what is he missing?  
  
His regulars slowly make their way out, one of them even casting a concerned eye on Tim and giving Jason a look, to which he just shrugs in return.   
  
He locks up finally and starts cleaning up, leaving Tim be. At some point his big brain will recognize what’s going on around him, or rather what’s not going on, and he’ll seek Jason out.   
  
Jason is washing dishes when Tim comes stumbling into the kitchen. He watches him out of the corner of his eye as he looks around blearily.   
  
“I think I’m drunk,” Tim announces.   
  
“No shit.”  
  
Tim nods, slams his hip against the side of the prep table, and almost falls as he tries to join Jason at the sink. It’s probably his ninja training that keeps him on his feet.   
  
“I’m really drunk,” he amends his statement. “Help me?”   
  
Jason dries off his hands and faces his boyfriend. “I can’t help unless I know what’s going on, rich boy.”   
  
“Oh.” The words don’t seem to penetrate right away. “I got shot today.”   
  
The fuck? Jason’s heart races before his brain catches up. “This is the day you screwed up.”  
  
“I almost killed Cass.” Tim looks like he’s about to cry.   
  
Jason hauls Tim into his arms. He’s surprisingly tense for someone this wasted. “No, from what I remember you telling me, she saved your ass.”  
  
“But...” Tim tries before his legs wobble again, this time more alarmingly than before.   
  
“But nothing. She’s alive. You’re alive. End of story.”   
  
It’s a crapshoot over whether Tim believes him or not. What sucks is that Jason can’t exactly call Cass and have her talk to him since she really doesn’t speak well. Perhaps a video chat would work. It isn’t all that late.   
  
Tim sighs and finally relaxes against him. “And you’re alive too.”   
  
Jason doesn’t know what to say to that, it’s so unexpected. There’s been a few points in his life he didn’t think he was going to make it. Tim knows those stories too.  
  
“Yeah, I am.”


	38. Prompt #33 (JayTim)

Sometimes Jason really hates his boss. Sure, Tim is smart, sassy, and is absolutely vicious, whether it’s in the office, the bedroom, or when he’s popping an underling for their complete and utter failure to do their fucking job, but right now, all Jason wants to do is break him.   
  
Too bad Tim’s got the leverage to keep him in line.   
  
“What the fuck you sayin’, Tim?” Jason growls, glaring at the other man. “I just slit that punk’s throat for you.”  
  
“You’re my right hand man, Jay. I shouldn’t have had to tell you.” Tim’s voice is sharp as the blade dripping in Jason’s hand. “You’re getting soft.”  
  
Jason stalks forward and looms over his boss and occasional lover. “Say that again?”   
  
Tim’s eyes are glacial. He doesn’t back down. He never does. “You’re really soft.”   
  
The knife buries itself up to the hilt in the wall beside Tim’s head. He doesn’t flinch. Jason grips it tight. It’s either that or Tim’s throat. “I haven’t heard you complainin’ recently. What’s crawled up your ass that’s not my cock, huh?”  
  
Tim glowers, looking all prissy in his light gray three piece suit. “If all my problems could be solved with your cock, don’t you think I’d make use of it more?”   
  
Jason’s lips twist into a thin sneer. “You wouldn’t even if you could.”  
  
“Why’s that?”  
  
“Because you’re selfish and don’t like to share.”   
  
Tim shoves him away, both men knowing that Jason only allows it because he’s won this little round. “I hate you.”  
  
“Feeling’s mutual, babe.”


	39. Prompt #52 (JayTim)

Jason vomits again into the basin Tim brought him, his stomach finally settling down now that it’s completely empty. He collapses wearily against the plush sofa cushions. “Three fucking weeks,” he mutters with a heavy sigh.   
  
This has been his routine every morning for almost a month now. Get up, make breakfast, sip some tea, and promptly throw it all back up. If he were a woman, he’d believe he was pregnant.   
  
Tim lays a damp washcloth over his brow to mop up the sweat. “To the day,” he agrees. “Do you want to go see Leslie now?”   
  
He’s been resisting visiting a doctor. It’s just a stomach bug. But now... “Yeah. Make me that ginger tea first though?”  
  
~*~  
  
Leslie clucks disapprovingly over Jason when he describes his symptoms. “You should have been here much sooner,” she says as she draws some blood. “With all the stuff you guys are exposed to on a regular basis, you’d think a checkup would be in order.”  
  
Jason waves her off, used to it. He gets this lecture more than most of them.   
  
Sitting in a small chair and messing with his phone, Tim snickers. “I told him that two weeks ago.”   
  
Traitor. But his boyfriend has cause to see Leslie more often so Jason lets it slide. “The only thing I can think of is it’s a bug I picked up in space. I was gone for several weeks and perhaps this slipped past the decontamination when I got back.” Kori’s ship is supposed to screen for non Earthen parasites or viruses before they even enter back into the solar system.   
  
Leslie shakes her head. “I just love how space travel is so blasé to you while it’s a dream for much of mankind. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”  
  
Jason shifts restlessly on the exam table, the paper sheet crinkling as he moves. What the hell is wrong with him? His stomach rumbles and he rests a hand on top of it, not that the gesture does much good. Still, he doesn’t seem about to toss his cookies again.   
  
“Just relax,” Tim says, rising from his chair to stand in front of Jason. “Whatever is wrong, we’ll fix it. Leslie is good and if it is some kind of virus, I’m no slouch in the biochemistry department.”  
  
“I know, I know.” Jason accepts the hand Tim holds out and tugs him in for a loose hug. “I really should have come sooner. Been feeling off ever since I got back.”   
  
“So you’ve said,” Tim agrees, lips brushing Jason’s temple. “I could have pushed for a blood panel from you too. It’s not like I don’t know how to run one.”  
  
“I’m surprised you didn’t stick me in my sleep.” Jason wouldn’t put it past the nosy bird.   
  
“Perhaps I will next time.”  
  
Leslie returns to the room, lips pressed together firmly. She doesn’t look too pleased.   
  
Jason’s stomach sinks and Tim takes a step back, but stays close. “Well?”   
  
“When was the last time you two had sex?” the old doctor asks bluntly.   
  
“Uh, about three days ago?” Jason replies, not seeing what this has to do with anything. He and Tim are both clean and very much exclusive.   
  
“Okay, let me rephrase. When exactly did you return from space and how soon after that did you have sex?”   
  
Tim answers this time. “He got back about eight weeks ago. I was undercover at the time so he’d been back a week before we had a chance to see each other.”  
  
“Seven weeks then.” Leslie shakes her head as disbelief slowly creeps into her voice. “Jason, I need to run some more tests, including an ultrasound.”  
  
“Why?” Jason tries not to growl but there’s still an edge to his tone. Tim rubs his thumb over the back of his hand soothingly. It doesn’t help. “What the hell is wrong with me, Doc?”   
  
Leslie pushes her wire glasses up the bridge of her nose and sighs. “I think you might be pregnant.”   
  
“You’ve got to be shitting me.”


	40. Prompt #33 (DamiJon)

Jon stands in front of the bathroom mirror and adjusts his tie again. He’s nervous, even though he’s tied a tie a million times thanks to Damian and the different events he’s been dragged to over the years they’ve been friends. This is different though. This time, he’s asked Damian to accompany him.   
  
What the heck is he thinking, asking Damian to come to prom with him? As a friend, not his date. But it still feels like a date. Jon wants it to be a date.   
  
He sighs and looks down at his hands, clenching the edge of the sink so hard there’s a slight crack in the porcelain. Crud. Jon yanks his hands away. Mom will understand. Right?   
  
There’s a knock at the door and Dad calls out. “Jon? You ready, son? Damian’s here.”   
  
Jon sucks in a deep breath. He can do this. He’s Superboy, son of Superman. A hero. Heroes don’t get nervous over something like prom.   
  
Even though his not-date is Robin, son of Batman, the scariest man in the world.   
  
Crud.   
  
~*~  
  
Prom isn’t as bad as Jon expects it to be. The food is decent and one of his teachers stands guard over the punch bowl to make sure no one spikes it. He even dances with a few of his friends.   
  
Damian doesn’t dance. Not because he doesn’t know how, but because he refuses to acknowledge that what they’re doing is actually dancing.   
  
Jon sits down beside him and smiles. “I know better than to ask if you’re having fun.”  
  
His friend sniffs disdainfully. “Then don’t.”  
  
Typical. “Why did you say yes then when I asked if you wanted to come with me?”  
  
Damian rolls his neck to the side, stretching a no doubt tight muscle. “Because I missed mine and Father says I need to experience this right of passage.”   
  
Only the Waynes would call prom a right of passage. Jon snickers at the disgusted look on his friend’s face. “I have no problem with leaving after they announce the king and queen.”  
  
“Any chance you’ll have to go up on that stage?”  
  
“Nope!” Jon replies cheerfully. “I just want to see it. Maybe we can get something to eat later.”  
  
Damian shrugs. “If we leave now, I’ll pay and you can get ice cream.”   
  
Jon bites his lip and thinks. It’s tempting. And it’s a lot better than Damian just going right back to Gotham when prom is over. He doesn’t get to see his best friend as often now that he’s attending university.   
  
“Deal.”  
  
For once, the grin on Damian’s face reaches his eyes. “Thank god.”  
  
~*~  
  
A couple hours later, the teens are seated on a ledge looking out over Metropolis eating ice cream. It’s a beautiful night, clear and not too warm. Damian hasn’t argued with him once, which Jon finds strange, but he knows better than to push his luck and ask. If Damian wants to speak up, then he will.   
  
Jon finishes his cone and crumples the napkin. Placing it in his pocket, he watches Damian eat. He’s always been a slow eater when it comes to ice cream.   
  
“Why do you always eat your ice cream so slowly?” he asks before he even realizes the words have slipped from his mouth.   
  
Damian quirks an eyebrow at him. “It is a treat to be savored, not rushed through like an uncultured heathen.”   
  
“But if you don’t eat it fast, then it melts,” Jon tries to reason, but he’s distracted by the tiny smudge of ice cream on the corner of his friend’s mouth.   
  
“Does it look like I’m having an issue with this?” Damian pointedly swirls his tongue around the top of his cone.   
  
Jon feels a tightening in his gut, one that seems to happen every time he’s with Damian now. He shouldn’t feel this way about his best friend, but it’s getting harder to deny that he is.   
  
“No, it doesn’t,” he replies a moment too late.   
  
Damian’s eyes narrow. “Something on your mind?”  
  
Jon bites his lip, a bad habit he can’t seem to stop. “Um...”  
  
“Spit it out.”  
  
The ice cream smudge is still there. It’s teasing him. Jon takes a deep breath. “Don’t hate me,” he whispers and leans in, closing the distance between them and pressing his lips against Damian’s.   
  
His lips are so soft, nothing at all like what he expects. Ever so carefully, Jon licks the corner of his mouth and tastes the pistachio ice cream. It’s sweet and slightly nutty, which, when he thinks about it, describes Damian perfectly, even if the sweetness is hidden beneath a prickly exterior.   
  
Jon withdraws and ducks his head in embarrassment. He can feel the flush in his cheeks and the racing of his heart. Oh no, he did it. He’s ruined everything. He’s...  
  
Damian grabs his chin and tugs him back in, sealing his lips over Jon’s again.   
  
Oh. OH. Perhaps he didn’t screw up as badly as he thought.   
  
His friend is much better at this than Jon is but he’s also got three brothers to give him pointers. And his stepmom is Catwoman, so who knows what he’s learned from her, even by accident.   
  
He’s thinking too hard. Jon quietly moans as Damian pulls back, breathing heavily.   
  
“You okay?” Damian asks. “I mean, it’s okay that I kissed you, right?”   
  
Jon nods and eyes his friend’s plump lips. “You’re so soft,” he replies, still feeling a little numb from the kiss.   
  
A slightly affronted look appears on Damian’s face. “I am not.”  
  
“Yes, you are,” Jon states. “Can I kiss you again?”   
  
“Just don’t call me soft.”  
  
Jon can do that.


	41. Prompt #35 (TimSteph)

As he stares down at the downy soft hair of his newborn daughter, Tim feels content. It’s a foreign feeling but one he thinks he could get used to.   
  
Next to him on the bed, Stephanie is resting. He thinks she looks radiant, just as perfect as the little tiny person they made together.   
  
It’s the calm before the storm, he knows this. The family is no doubt fighting over who will be the first in the room, or the first to hold this precious bundle. Alfred will be the first, Steph has already said so and she’s the boss here.   
  
“You’re thinking too loud,” his wife murmurs.   
  
“No, I’m not,” Tim denies. “Just wondering when the others are going to start sneaking in.”  
  
“I’m surprised they haven’t already.” Stephanie opens her eyes, her gaze instantly landing on their daughter. “How are you holding up, Tim?”  
  
“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”  
  
“I’m fine. Just sore. I’m still happy that Leslie let me do this naturally instead of another C-section.”  
  
“Me too,” Tim bends over and kisses her sweat dampened brow. “You okay?” He knows what she’s thinking. Who she’s remembering.   
  
Steph nods, even as she wipes a tear from her eye. “I made the right decision back then. I know I did and I can’t question it. But it doesn’t stop me from wondering what would have happened if I kept her.”   
  
“I would have helped you, every step of the way.”   
  
“I know. Even back then, you were always there for me.”  
  
Tim leans over and kisses her gently. “I will always be there for you. To protect you. Love you. And now, this little bean too.”  
  
Steph smacks his arm. “She’s not a bean.”   
  
“She is until we figure out a name. Little Bean Drake.”   
  
“Remind me why I married you again?”


	42. Prompt #54 (JayTim)

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Jason asks, heart racing as he kneels beside Tim.   
  
“That’s not how the question is usually phrased.” It’s unfair how calm the dragon appears.   
  
“And it’s not usually asked now,” the priestess Stephanie adds. She knows them both all too well.   
  
“Jason, I want to do this.” Tim’s slitted eyes glimmer in the faint light of the rising sun. “If I didn’t, I would have said no when you asked. We are bound in the way of my race, now we will be bound in the way of yours.”  
  
He takes Jason’s trembling hand and rubs the back of it soothingly. It helps. It always does.   
  
Jason draws a deep breath and nods. He can do this. He and his dragon lover have been through too much together to be nervous over this. Over something that makes them happy. “Okay,” he says. “Okay. I’m ready. Let’s do this.”  
  
Stephanie smiles beatifically and starts her prayer over them, invoking the blessings of the sun goddess over this union.   
  
They’re about to speak their vows when a loud crash occurs at the entrance to the grove. A moment later, Dick races in, dressed in leather armor and tossing his sword to the ground, remembering at the last moment that weapons were not allowed on this sacred ground.   
  
“Jason!” he shouts. “Tim!”   
  
The almost married couple glare at the interruption. “What are you doing here?” Jason snaps, even as he hides the flutter of relief at seeing someone from his family here. “If Bruce finds out, you will be in so much trouble.”   
  
“I don’t care, little brother,” Dick replies as he kneels behind them and bows to the alter. “You’re getting married. What I don’t understand is why I wasn’t invited to your wedding? You know I’ve always supported you two.”  
  
Jason opens his mouth, but Tim claps a taloned hand over it. “Let’s finish, shall we? The sun is almost up.”   
  
Stephanie chuckles as Jason huffs in frustration. He turns back to the alter and the priestess continues.   
  
“May the light forever shine and illuminate your way, casting away all shadow and doubt. Your souls are now one in the eyes of our beloved Koriand’r. Now kiss each other, you morons. I’ve been waiting for this moment for too long.”   
  
Dick snickers as Tim tugs Jason in for a passionate kiss, perhaps a little too much so for an audience. Jason doesn’t care. He’s married to the person he loves most. It’s still a constant source of amazement that this wondrous being loves him back.  
  
The kiss continues and Stephanie joins in the laugher. “Seriously, you guys. Get a room.”   
  
Tim withdraws just enough to reply. “Who needs a room when I have a whole cavern?”   
  
Dick explodes with laughter and Jason flips him off as he goes back to kissing Tim. The peanut gallery can wait.


	43. Prompt #33 (JayTim #2)

Tim holds up his phone, waiting for just the right moment to hit the video button and record this utterly perfect moment. Jason is so far gone on his pain meds, he doubts he’ll notice. If he can just get him to do it again so he can record this moment for posterity, it’ll be worth whatever threats of retribution Jason will undoubtedly rain down on his head once he’s off the strong narcotics.   
  
“Hey, Jay,” Tim says, getting Jason’s attention. He hits play when Jason beams in excitement as he spots him.   
  
“Timmy!” he slurs, blinking quickly as his vision apparently wavers. “You came to see me?”   
  
Tim has barely left his fiancé’s side since he got shot, but now is not the time argue the point. “Of course, I did. You think I’m going to leave you alone to Bruce’s tender, loving care?”   
  
Jason makes a face that wouldn’t look out of place on a toddler being told to eat their broccoli. “Bruce is a moose,” he declares.   
  
It’s something he’s said while drunk before too, but it still makes Tim laugh every time.   
  
“He’s just worried about you.”   
  
“He’s still a goose. Moose. F’cker.”  
  
Tim chuckles and tries to hold the phone steady. “If Bruce is a moose, then what am I?”  
  
Jason smiles dreamily. Here it comes. “You’re really soft. S’pretty. I like your hair.”   
  
This is not quite what Tim expected. Before, Jason had called him a duck and made a quacking noise. It’s still funny though.   
  
“Yeah, well, I like your face.” Tim angles the phone so that it catches him leaning in to kiss Jason’s too pale cheek. His color is slowly coming back.   
  
Jason nuzzles against his neck and Tim turns off the recording. It’s nap time, for them both. The stress from the last twelve hours is catching up with him. Tim settles in next to Jason, careful not to jar the bandage on his abdomen. That kind of wound is going to keep the big man down for awhile, and while Tim is most certainly glad he’s alive, the recovery period is going to be a bitch.   
  
“I love you,” he whispers into Jason’s matted hair.   
  
“Wuv you too.”


	44. Prompt #5 (JayKon)

Sometimes having super strength comes in handy. Like right now. Kon grabs hold of the crushed door to the Batmobile and yanks. The armored car has been twisted into a mangled mess from the force of the impact.  
  
He doesn’t even want to imagine the energy involved. That’s something for Tim to nerd out over later when he flies the carcass of the car back to the Batcave. Right now, all he’s focused on is the steady beat of the heart he hears within. It’s strong, just like the man it belongs to. There’s another heart beat in there too, slower and weaker. That one normally beats strongly too, so Kon yanks with a heightened sense of urgency.   
  
The door gives way and Kon tosses it aside. He peers into the dark interior. “Jay? Tim? Talk to me, guys.”  
  
“You make that look so fucking easy,” Jason grouses as he holds out Tim’s mostly semi-conscious body for Kon to take. “All that muscle is wasted on you.”  
  
Kon shakes his head as carefully cradles Tim in his arms. He appears dazed. “You’re jealous, aren’t you?” he quips as he starts hovering. “Mad that those wonderful thighs couldn’t kick open that door?”  
  
“These thighs have pinned your ass to the bed more often than not. Now get outta here. I’m fine. He’s not. Concussion, I think.”  
  
Tim groans. “God, would you two just get a room already?”  
  
“What’s that, Timmy? You want us to sleep in your room? I don’t see why not, you’re never there anyway,” Jason comments as he crawls out of the wreckage.   
  
Kon scans him with his X-ray vision and doesn’t spot anything broken. He heaves a quiet sigh of relief as he rises back into the air.   
  
“You guys suck and I hate you both.” Tim’s head lolls to the side against Kon’s shoulder. “Just change the sheets,” he mumbles as he passes out.   
  
Jason shakes his head. “Get him to Leslie. He cracked that noggin pretty hard.”  
  
“I’m on it, Jay. See you later?” Kon asks hopefully. It’s been awhile since he and Jason have had any time to themselves.   
  
“At Tim’s with bells on.”


	45. Prompt #18 (DamiTim)

It could be said that a renowned painter like Prince Damian never lacked for inspiration. He traveled far and wide, from the sands of Arabia, to the shores of the New World. Countless treasures sat on display in his palace, each one more incredible than the next.   
  
But despite this common belief, the Prince did indeed suffer. And when he suffered, there was only person who could reignite his passion.   
  
“We must find Lord Timothy,” the Prince’s most loyal servants whispered after they spied their prince alternately moping and cursing before his canvas. “He is always able to help.”  
  
A quiet summons was sent out into the countryside with a desperate plea. Ten days later, Lord Timothy arrived.   
  
He marched unannounced into the royal quarters and stared impassively at the Prince.   
  
Damian lay sprawled over a chaise, a small book in hand and a scowl on his handsome face. He glanced over at his friend. “I don’t recall sending for you.”  
  
“No, you didn’t,” Timothy replied, taking in the sight of his lord. He appeared put together, but it was clear he hadn’t shaved yet today and that he had not been sleeping well, not with the dark smudges beneath his eyes. “Colin sent for me. Said you were in one of your moods again.”   
  
Damian sniffed disdainfully. “Colin thinks too much.” But there was an undercurrent of fondness in his voice. The red headed valet was the most loyal of servants and only did what he thought was in the Prince’s best interest. In this case, he was right, not that Damian would ever tell him.   
  
He set down his book and rose gracefully to stand before Timothy. The lord stood almost a full handspan shorter than the Prince, but he never let the taller man (or any man, for that matter) intimidate him. Crystalline blue eyes gazed stonily up at him and Damian smirked, running the tip of his finger over Timothy’s firm mouth.  
  
“I am glad you are here,” he whispered.   
  
Timothy parted his lips and gently drew the digit within his warm depths. His eyes blazed with contained fire, just like the drake on his family’s crest. “I will always come for you.”  
  
Damian closed the distance between them, and his mouth closed over those warmly soft lips. For the first time in months, he felt alive, invigorated, his passions excited. He tugged his lover down onto the chaise, unwrapping him from the confines of his road stained clothing, and prepared him for worship.     
  
Afterwards, Damian strode across his room to collect his long abandoned sketch pad and his charcoal pencils. He returned to where Timothy lay, sleepy and sated, upon a brilliant field of blue.   
  
His own fires reignited, Damian started to draw, broad lines at first, but each one becoming recognizable as the bare figure resting before him.   
  
“Will you ever tire of me?” Timothy commented after a time.   
  
“Never, my Beloved. You are my favorite muse. I only wish I could keep you by my side forever.”


	46. Prompt #15 (TimKon)

“If we die, I’m going to kill you,” Tim all but growls as Kon drags him out of the rubble.   
  
“How does that work?” Kon asks crossly. This isn’t even his fault. The red sky overhead is draining his strength, not as fast as a red sun will but it’s close.   
  
Tim huffs when Kon drops him unceremoniously on a slab of concrete. “I don’t know. I’ll figure it out.”  
  
Kon settles in next to him and drapes an arm over Tim’s shoulders. He needs the contact. The falling building had scared the crap out of him but trust Tim to be wily enough to find a pocket where he wasn’t completely crushed. Just trapped.   
  
“I’m sure you could.”  
  
They sit there and watch the skies above. Flashes of green light streak through the clouds, followed by brief beams of real sunlight. It’s the only reason why Kon’s powers haven’t completely disappeared.   
  
Tim brushes back his cowl and rests his head against Kon’s shoulder. “We need to move soon,” he says quietly.   
  
“I know. Just let me sunbathe a little more.” That’s a lie and they both know it. The green has moved away from them.   
  
Near death experiences are nothing new but even heroes need a moment to just breathe. Kon brushes his lips against Tim’s matted hair and sighs. “We’re gonna get through this, right, Rob?”   
  
Tim looks up at him and places a light kiss on Kon’s jaw. “We always do. And when this crisis is over, we’re going to finish that first date.”  
  
Kon kisses Tim back, too tired to do more than press against his dusty lips. Only his hair is somewhat clean, protected as it was by the cowl. “Promise?”  
  
“Promise.”


	47. Prompt #23 (TimKon)

It’s no secret that Tim is a bit of a hoarder. Mostly for doodads he thinks he can find a use for later (and never does), but he also has a penchant for _borrowing_  things that don’t belong to him. Namely, clothes.  

If he’s being specific, Kon’s clothes. Tim has lost count of how many of Kon’s shirts have made their way into his closet over the years. It wasn’t bad before the crisis where Kon died but it has certainly escalated since his return. Tim needs a piece of him close by, to know that he’s _here_ and _alive_  in ways he never feels around Steph or Bart. He knows this says something about his relationship with Kon but he’s not prepared to go there.  

Not now. Perhaps not ever because Tim also knows his life is a raging garbage fire and he refuses to let anyone in that close only for them to be dragged down too.  

Tim settles in for a night of computer work, dressed in comfortable sweats and one of Kon’s big flannels. It practically swallows him whole, but it doesn’t matter. No one else is around to see him in the safety and privacy of his apartment.  

Of course, that means he has to be interrupted a few hours later. “Dude, is that my shirt?” Kon asks, crawling in through the living room window.  

Tim tugs the flannel closer. “No.” Lies. Why is this happening now? He likes this shirt. A lot.  

“That is totally my shirt,” Kon says, standing over Tim and peering down at him. “I thought I’d left it at the Tower and the laundry machine ate it.” 

This would not be the first time someone has said this. It may also be a story that Tim made up to hide his klepto tendencies. He made a point to steal one of Cassie’s uniform shirts too, just to share the wealth, and complained about some of his clothes disappearing as well.  

“This is my shirt,” Tim replies levelly. He lies to Batman, he can totally lie to Kon and make him believe.  

Kon leans over and braces his strong arms against the back of the sofa, caging Tim in a wall of warmth. “Really?” he asks with clear disbelief. “Since when do you wear a 2XL?”  

“I like baggy clothes.” 

“Tim,” Kon huffs in fond exasperation. “You’re so full of it.”  

With that, he closes the distance between them and presses his lips against Tim’s.  

Oh.  

Oh shit.  

Um.  

Tim gives up as Kon continues to kiss him, slowly and gently like he’s trying to calm a wild beast. Which Tim supposes makes sense as he does carry kryptonite in a specially lined pouch in his utility belt. He relaxes against the cushions and Kon follows him, never breaking contact even though he probably has to be floating to do so.  

When Kon finally withdraws, there’s a small smirk on his face.  

“What?” Tim asks cautiously. That smirk never bodes well for anyone. He’s seen it directed his way more often than not.  

“I still want my shirt back.”

Tim drags Kon back down to kiss him some more. “I’ll buy you a new one.” 


	48. Prompt #30 (Tim & Damian)

There is a reason why Bruce doesn’t partner his third son and his youngest son together. It has nothing to do with Damian trying to kill Tim either. They’ve moved past that, mostly.

He may not be able to admit this to anyone, but Bruce can admit to himself that the reason actually keeps him awake some nights, his brain unable to stop picking apart the possibilities and creating contingency plans.

The conversation he’s able to hear over his broken commlink isn’t helping matters. Yes, his boys (they’ll always be boys to him, no matter how old or big they get) are trying to stage a rescue and get him out of a rather precarious situation but the way they’re going about it has Bruce wishing he could move even the slightest bit and rescue himself. 

“That’s not how the coding works,” Tim is saying.

“I know that, Drake, but changing this one line should give us the opening -,”

“No, it won’t. Stop and think a minute and you’ll realize what you’re saying.”

“Do you think you could please go one day without pissing me off?” Damian grumbles, sounding like the teenager he is, but he listens to Tim for a change. “Fine,” he huffs after a moment. “So what do you suggest we use as a distraction then?” 

“Your grandfather has ninja following me this week. I can lure them into the back of the building, where I can escape through this air duct,” Tim explains. He must have the blueprints for the building pulled up.  

“And the ninja can then take the bulk of the damage,” Damian finishes. He sounds approving of the plan. “That’s vicious, even for you.” 

Bruce can just picture Tim shrugging. It hurts knowing his son has that kind of razor sharp edge to him, that sometimes, he sees them all as pieces in some elaborate game where only he knows the endgame. When they get out of here, it’s time for a one-on-one talk with Tim again. Perhaps he needs a vacation from it all... 

“It puts us where we need to be. I’ll gain the security room and on my signal, you’ll be able to rescue B.” Tim sounds disturbingly fatalistic. “There will be some damage, but Ra’s always has the ninja under orders to disengage and escape rather than fight. I doubt that’s changed this time.” 

“If I join you in the chase, I may be able to counter those orders. Persuade them to attack instead. If they’re taking the initiative, that should lessen the chance of casualties.”  

Bruce mentally groans. This is not good. If Dick were here there then he’d be able to rein them in. But he’s in New York. And Jason...well, he’s just as apt to join them as he would work against them. Depends on his mood.  

Tim and Damian continue to plan their rescue. It is utterly nerve-wracking how _well_  his sons are plotting together. There are a few snippy comments from Damian but other than those, his input is being considered and even implemented by Tim, making the rescue plan and its numerous contingencies just as much Damian’s plan as it is his.  

Bruce can’t help but feel proud of them, even if the ninjas are being referred to as _cannon_ _fodder_ now _._  

Still, Tim and Damian working together under the same unified flag could easily be the greatest threat this world has ever seen. Not Clark going rogue. Not the sun exploding, or Darkseid taking another swipe at claiming the Earth for his own.  

No, it’s the possibility of his two sons joining forces and taking them all down, perceiving them as ineffectual against protecting the greater good.  

Where is Jason when he needs him? His special brand of chaos would come in handy right about now. The second Robin hasn’t been accounted for in the plan. Bruce isn’t sure if he’s been contacted at all; neither boy has made mention of him, so he suspects he hasn’t been. If Jason finds out he wasn’t invited to a rescue party for Batman, he’s going to be upset, even if it’s only because he wants the chance to rub it in Bruce’s face that he was the one who needed rescuing for a change.  

An upset Jason is a volatile Jason. A volatile Jason is creative in making his displeasure known.  

Bruce’s lips twitch minutely. Even he can see how much trouble Tim and Damian are going to be in by not calling the Red Hood. Or Nightwing for that matter. Dick has his own special way of expressing his displeasure.  

He should not be as amused by this as he is. These are his sons. He’s their _father_.  

In the distance, Bruce hears a gunshot, along with shouting. Is it...? 

Over the comm, Tim swears. “Goddammit, Jason’s here. Where the hell did he come from?” 

Bruce silently heaves a sigh of relief as the boys start bickering over what to do now, Damian clearly in favor of still using the ninja somehow. Their temporary truce is over, which means balance has been restored to his world and Bruce can go back to brooding over their future world domination rather than actively fighting against it.  

Another gunshot rings out, followed by a shout that is undeniably Jason.  

“That’s it, I’m going in,” Tim announces. “Who needs ninja when Jason’s around?”  

When this is over, Bruce is going to give them all a lecture over name use on the comms. And then send Tim on vacation because he clearly needs one. Somewhere without any WiFi. After they have their little talk.  

Who’s he trying to kid? By the time that discussion is over, they’re _both_ going to need a vacation.  


	49. Prompt #47 (StephCass)

Ever since Stephanie first caught a glimpse of the massive ballroom at Wayne Manor, there’s been something she has to do in there at least once in her life.   
  
And Alfred just accidentally gave her the perfect opportunity. Sure, waxing the floor of the humongous room is supposed to be a punishment (of which, come on, she doesn’t even live here!) because she and Jason joined forces to pick on Tim and nearly sent him into a nervous breakdown (it was totally an accident; they didn’t know he’d been cursed until Raven arrived to remove it). No one was amused so Steph could understand why she’s being subjected to this.   
  
Jason, the traitor, skipped town as soon as it became clear Tim didn’t need an exorcist (what is their life even that this is a thing?) and that Raven had things under control. Steph is positive he’ll still feel the wrath of Alfred’s displeasure sometime soon. Alfred is awesome like that.   
  
She, on the other hand, accepts her punishment gracefully and is privately glad she at least gets to use the floor polisher rather than crawling around on her hands and knees. Mostly, since the corners are hard to reach and the machine doesn’t do that great of a job around the moulding that lines the floor.   
  
So there’s still some back breaking labor.   
  
But when it’s all done, Steph wipes her brow and grins proudly. It’s perfect.   
  
And there’s one other person she has to share this moment with. Well, two, but Tim’s still sedated.   
  
Stephanie races down the hall and trips her way up the stairs to the family wing. At Cass’s door, she barely knocks before she barges in.   
  
Cass looks up from her yoga mat, a question in her eyes.   
  
“Good, you’re already dressed,” Steph says in a rush. “I waxed the floors, grab your fluffy socks.”  
  
“What?”  
  
Stephanie revisits her last sentence. “Oops. I finished waxing the floors in the ballroom. Grab those fuzzy socks I got you for Christmas and come on. We’re going floor surfing.”  
  
Cass clearly thinks she’s insane but listens. She’s awesome like that.   
  
Downstairs in the ballroom, Steph takes a moment change her socks. Bouncing on her feet, she grins. This is a dream come true. She starts running across the floor and slides...  
  
Behind her, she hears Cass clap her hands in excitement as she suddenly understands. A moment later, she’s running and gliding along the waxed floor alongside her.   
  
Steph beams.   
  
They race and slide across the floor, whooping and hollering as they go. Alfred is bound to check on them soon enough but neither young woman cares much. Eventually, Stephanie slips and lands gracelessly on her butt.   
  
“Ow,” she grumbles and rubs at her tailbone.   
  
“No padding?” Cass teases as she comes to a stop in front of her.   
  
“Not cool, girlfriend,” Steph protests. “I have more junk in my trunk than you do.” It’s a common complaint but she’s long ago accepted their different body types and rolls with it. Curves are awesome, especially in situations like this.   
  
“I like the trunk.” Cass reaches out and hauls Steph back to her feet.   
  
“I know you do.” She leans in and kisses Cass on the cheek. “Come on, I want to keep going until someone comes and yells at us.”


	50. Prompt #25 (Tim & Tam)

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Tam exclaims, not at all happy at the number of people running in and out of Tim’s office, all young and eager to please the big boss.   

Tim knows he’s looking a little manic, but he doesn’t care. Can’t care, really. He’s running on a wish and a prayer and will use every resource available to get his job done. “I’m delegating,” he explains in what he thinks is a patient tone. “You told me I should.”   

This apparently is the wrong answer as Tam storms into the office and sends the interns scurrying out with a withering glare. “Tim, I just heard you call them Thing #1 and Thing #2. These are people, not things.” 

“They’re interns,” Tim tries again to explain. “ _Minions_.” 

Tam runs a hand over her eyes and her lips thin as she bites the bottom one. It’s her _done_ _with_ _Tim_ look. “Tim, if you’re going to drive them all to an early death because you’re the one who waited until the last possible moment to finish this presentation, at least use their names.” 

This time, Tim does it on purpose. He blinks innocently at her. “They have names?” 

Tam screams and throws her mostly empty coffee mug at him. 


	51. Prompt #1 (Jason & Bruce)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could have ended this one at the end of the first play where Bruce disappointed Jason (again), but decided the old bat needed a chance to redeem himself.

Jason peered nervously out of a crack between the big curtains. He could just glimpse of the crowd seated in the large auditorium. This was it. The last night of the Christmas pageant. Bruce promised he’d be here to see his performance.   
  
Sure, the play was lame as hell, but Jason somehow managed to get a solo in the choir. Alfred helped him prepare, coached him, and even made sure his costume fit properly when he brought it home from school. Bruce said he’d come and see him, but then a massive case came up and he’d been stuck working that all week, missing every performance. Even Dickhead managed to make it down from New York to see him and took him out for ice cream afterward.  
  
It was great.   
  
Tonight was the last night though and he really wanted Bruce to come. Alfred assured him when he dropped him off that he was returning immediately to the manor to collect Bruce, whom he would drag here “by hook or by crook”.  
  
Jason believed Alfred. He believed he would try his hardest at least because Bruce was a beast sometimes (a lot of the times) and even Clark couldn’t get him to budge. Curtain call was in five minutes. Was he here? Between the lights and the limited view, he couldn’t tell.   
  
Sighing hard, Jason let the curtain close. He’ll find out soon enough.   
  
~*~  
  
After the performance was over, Jason ran out to the spot where he was supposed to meet Alfred and Bruce. The show had been awesome and his solo was spot on. Who knew the kid from Park Row could sing so well with a little training? He sure didn’t.   
  
Jason caught a glimpse of a large figure with Alfred and his heart raced in excitement. Bruce made it!    
  
But then the crowd shifted and Jason got a better look at the man. It wasn’t Bruce.   
  
It was Clark.   
  
Clark, who rather sheepishly held a videocamera, as he waved at Jason.   
  
Disappointment welled up inside him. Why did he even bother getting his hopes up? Stupid Bruce. He bet that if this had been Dickie’s performance, he’d have dropped everything to see it. Stupid golden boy.   
  
Stupid Jason for believing Bruce.   
  
Alfred strode forward and wrapped an arm around Jason, which wasn’t like him at all. “I’m so sorry, Master Jason. When I returned home, Mr. Kent was sitting on the doorstep and Master Bruce was nowhere to be found.”  
  
“Bruce called and asked me to come and record your performance for him,” Clark added. “You were great up there, Jay! I didn’t know you could sing like that.”   
  
“Would you like to go out and celebrate a magnificent end to your run?” Alfred asked quietly. He had been to every show, which meant a lot to Jason, but it wasn’t the same. He wasn’t Bruce.   
  
“Whatever,” Jason replied sullenly. “I don’t care.”  
  
“Jay-lad, I’m certain Mr. Kent and I will find out what distracted Master Bruce from your performance tonight.”  
  
Clark nodded in agreement. “He broke a promise. We’ll find out why.”  
  
Jason shrugged off Alfred’s arm and started walking towards the car. “It wouldn’t be the first time he broke a promise.”  
  
He doubted it would be the last time either.   
  
~*~  
  
Years passed. Jason died, came back to life, and spent several years raging against the world and Bruce in particular. During rare moments of calm, he would read. Singing wasn’t something he kept up with after that abysmal play, aside from his own solos in the shower or along with the radio, never where someone could hear him.   
  
So when he was out grocery shopping one day, he was surprised that the flyer posted on the door even caught his attention. A small group of people were trying to get together a cast to perform a musical. It didn’t pay anything, these were just people doing it for fun through one of the local community centers. Jason wasn’t sure what made him go check it out. Or audition.   
  
Landing a lead role was a shock and a half.   
  
He had no plans to tell anyone in his family. Well, almost no one.   
  
“Hey, Alfie,” Jason said, trying hard for nonchalant when in fact there were more butterflies in his stomach now than the first time he got up on stage. “Whatcha doing Wednesday night?”  
  
“I have my usual tasks to attend to,” the old butler replied. “Do you require my assistance with something?”  
  
Jason shrugged, glad he was doing this over the phone rather than in person. He explained what he’d gotten himself involved in. “I’ll text you an address and a time. There’ll be a ticket waiting for you, if you want to come.”   
  
“Of course, I’ll be there. A stampede of wild horses couldn’t keep me away.” The pride and happiness in Alfred’s voice warmed Jason to the core. “Shall I inform Master Bruce?”  
  
“Why? It’s not like he’ll come,” Jason replied bitterly. The string of broken promises reared its ugly head, even after all these years. “I gotta run, I’ll see you Wednesday.”  
  
~*~  
  
Jason peeked out the slim opening in the curtain to check out the audience. It was more crowded than he expected, but then again, the musical was one of those comedy of errors that made fools out of the leads.   
  
At least he was having fun doing it. More fun than he believed possible.   
  
Before he stepped away, Jason caught a glimpse of a familiar face. Alfred, sitting right in the center of the second row.   
  
Jason grinned as he went to take his place in the wings, happy at the sight. He’d make the old man proud and show him he still remembered all those lessons from before.   
  
~*~  
  
After the musical was over, Jason made his way out into the crowd to find Alfred. He was stopped a few times by some people who wanted to talk with him about the show. That was fine and all but Jason really wanted to hear an opinion of his performance from someone who knew him rather than from the peanut gallery.   
  
He caught a glimpse of Alfred in the lobby, waiting off to the side and excused himself (politely rather than rudely, because he wasn’t a complete dick).   
  
“Alfie!” Jason shouted, catching the old man in a bear hug before he could try and escape it. He was on cloud nine, brimming with energy and had to share it with someone.   
  
“Master Jason!” Alfred exclaimed, trying to swat him even as Jason set him back on his feet.   
  
“I know, I know,” Jason replied with a carefree grin. “Watch the back. You’re not as spry as you used to be.” Alfred puffed up indigently at that, which only made him laugh. “So, what did you think?”  
  
“I think it was an excellent performance,” another voice spoke up from behind Jason, an all too familiar voice that he was more used to hearing growling or yelling at him. “Your vocal range is impressive and you’ve got a knack for situational comedy.”  
  
Jason stiffened reflexively as Bruce stepped around him to join Alfred. What the hell?   
  
Alfred patted him on the shoulder. “You did not say I couldn’t tell Master Bruce about my plans for tonight,” he reminded Jason. “When the subject came up, he said he would gladly accompany me to see you on stage.”  
  
Bruce eyed Jason cautiously, clearly uncertain of his welcome. “I delegated,” he said after a moment. “Called Dick to come and take over for me tonight. He said he’ll come see you tomorrow night while he’s in town.”   
  
It was clear what Bruce was trying to do. He was attempting to make up for past mistakes. Past failures. The real question became, did Jason want forgive him?   
  
Not really. But even he could acknowledge what a massive step this was for Bruce. “Yeah? Tell him I said he’s taking me out for a beer afterward instead of ice cream.”  
  
“How about we do that now?” Alfred asked, ignoring the way Bruce visibly started panicking over the question. His ability to delegate apparently only went so far. “I’m sure we can find a place and share a quiet drink together.”  
  
Jason smirked, already knowing his answer. Seeing Bruce squirm was a favorite past time of his. “Yeah, that sounds great. I know a decent place that’s not too far. Let me go clean up and I’ll be right back. And Bruce,” Jason paused to make sure he had the man’s attention. “First round is on me if your ass actually stays for round two.”


	52. Prompt #37 (JayTim) (1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have two of this same prompt, so here's the first one!

Jason nervously fiddles with his glasses. They’re new, just like the suit he’s wearing. He’s already outgrown the last one. Alfred insisted on a new suit for the dance, saying that every respectable young man should have one that fits properly.

It’s not his fault he’s growing like a weed. Which is great, it really is, since he’s been so damn small for practically forever. Of course, that means nothing fits anymore and he constantly aches. And apparently his eyesight sucks, probably because of all the reading he does. Bruce keeps reminding him to turn on a light and Jason never remembers until it’s too late.

All these thoughts flutter through his mind as Jason leans against the wall of the ballroom Gotham Academy hired out for the annual homecoming dance. This particular dance is for the juniors and seniors, which just means all the real assholes are out in full force tonight. They never let him forget who he is or where he’s from, the _adopted_ son of Bruce Wayne.

Fuck ‘em. Jason has better grades than all of them and is already testing into college level classes. If he hadn’t missed so much school growing up, he could have skipped junior year and gone straight into his senior year. 

Socializing sucks. He much prefers to stick his nose in a book and ignore everyone.  

He scowls and adjusts his glasses again, watching some people dance. There’s something else he has never managed to do well with either, even with Alfred’s lessons and Dick’s toes getting stepped on six ways to Sunday.

“Are they new?” a voice asks from beside him.

Jason startles and looks over. A young man stands there, dark hair slicked back perfectly, revealing an all too familiar face. It’s Tim Drake, one of the most popular guys in his year, even if by rights he should be a sophomore. If he remembers right, this guy got to skip a grade, which should make Jason less inclined to like him, but it doesn’t. Drake has never done him wrong after all. He’s one of the few people who seem to stand up for him and not expect anything in return.

“Y-yeah,” Jason manages to force out. Why is this guy talking to him? “Just got them today.”

Tim nods in understanding. “I wear contacts when I’m at school but have glasses for home.”

“I could have gotten those but I didn’t like the idea of sticking my finger in my eye.”

The comment makes Tim laugh. It’s a nice sound and Jason’s stomach does a little lurch. He just recently came to terms with the fact that he finds boys more attractive than girls, but this is the first time Jason has ever found himself in a place where it’s a real person making him feel this way instead of a picture. It doesn’t help that Tim is super cute, even if he is short and kinda skinny.

“You get used to it after awhile,” Tim is saying. His blue eyes glance out over the dance floor for a moment before landing on Jason again. He bites his lip nervously. “Look, um, I was wondering. Do you...? May I have this dance?” he finishes in a rush, actually moving away from the wall and bowing slightly as he asks.

The question catches Jason off guard and Tim must take his silence as a rejection, because the hopeful look on his face fades the longer he waits for a reply. “Crap, you probably don’t like guys. Or at least like that. Sorry, I didn’t mean...”

“I do.” The response surprises Jason as much as it does Tim. “Like guys. I just...I’m a really shitty dancer.”

Tim’s confidence returns and he beams at Jason even as he takes his sweaty hand. “I’m pretty good. Let me lead?”

Jason just nods numbly. Wow. This is really happening. Just like in that one movie Dick made him watch but instead with him and another boy. A really nice boy who doesn’t seem to be bothered at all with how often Jason curses each time he steps on Tim’s toes. 

He saves the ‘I told you so’ for later when Tim stumbles off the dance floor, limping with extreme exaggeration and a massive grin on his face. 

“For that, you owe me ice cream,” Tim tells Jason as he sits down.  

“I know a great place we can go after school sometime.” 

Tim grins up at him. “It’s a date.”


	53. Prompt 51 (JayTim)

Dick watches his brothers out of the corner of his eye as they get ready for patrol. He’s already suited up and mostly focused on the computer in front of him, plotting out his route for the night and the drug dealer he needs to bust. Try as he might to focus, he finds the conversation between Jason and Tim just distracting enough that he can’t concentrate. 

“Babe, you missed a spot over here,” Jason is saying. 

“Did I? Where?” Tim replies. Dick catches him trying to look over his shoulder at the massive bruise on his back. He’d taken a pretty solid blow the other night and has been using Alfred’s special balm to help soothe the ache. 

“Here,” Jason replies, sneaking in a kiss even as he swipes the rub out of Tim’s hands to finish applying it himself.

Tim snorts even as he leans into the touch. “You just wanted to get your hands on me.”

“Maybe.”

Dick hides a smile. If Damian were here tonight, he’d be storming away in disgust by now. “You guys done acting like newlyweds over there?” he calls out. “There’s work to do.” 

“Who died and made you Bruce?” Jason snaps back without any real heat behind it. 

But Tim stiffens and gapes blankly at them, his mouth dropping in surprise.

“Tim?” Dick asks, brows furrowing even as Jason waves a hand in front of his boyfriend’s face. 

It takes a moment for Tim to snap out of it. When he does, he whirls around and grabs Jason by the front of his jacket. “Jay. Jay, oh my god. Don’t you see?”

“See what, bird brain?” 

Tim’s fists tighten. “We’ve become the clingy newlyweds you always complain about,” he hisses. 

Jason blinks slowly and Dick suppresses a laugh. This is too much. 

“Holy shit,” Jason breathes. 

Dick’s had enough. Normally, he’s all for his brothers’ idiocy, but this is a bit much. And slightly painful. He’s happy for them, he really is, but this stage of their relationship reminds him of his own failures with two of the most important women in his life. He stands and puts his mask on. “Pretty sure for you two to be newlyweds, one of you has to put a ring on it first. Just make sure I’m invited to both bachelor parties.” 

He winks for good measure and walks away.


	54. Prompt 50 (JayTim)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A sequel to chapter 39 (Prompt 52 "I think you might be pregnant.")

Tim stares blankly at the report in front of him. Theoretically, it all makes sense. Jason’s hormone levels, the slight changes in his blood work-up. But even this could be explained by something else, which, in their line of work, is extremely possible.   
  
However, the black and white photos attached to the report prove otherwise. Grainy to be sure, but there, nestled in the lower half of Jason’s abdomen, is a small bundle of cells that is slowly forming into an actual human baby.   
  
A baby he helped make.   
  
Tim has analyzed everything Leslie gave them dozens of times now and no matter how he tries to spin it, his all too male partner is pregnant. Questions of how this happened spin in the back of his mind. He wants to go to Kori, have a chat with her ship’s computer to discover what kind of virus Jason was exposed to, and why it didn’t pick up on his biometric scans when they returned to Earth. At the same time, he wants to poke and prod at Jason, find out how his organs have changed, developed even, and, here’s the million dollar question, how is he supposed to give birth if he even manages to carry the baby to term? Last time Tim checked, his boyfriend has not developed another hole down there.   
  
He sighs and sets the papers aside. Glancing outside, he watches the rain pour down, providing an illusion of peace and cleanliness. Of washing away sins.   
  
There’s something Tim knows he needs to do. He’s been meaning to for awhile now, but time always seems to get away from him. Schedules don’t match up, but really, deep down, it’s because he knows he wants to make this moment perfect. Well, that’s been shot all to hell. Tim opens his desk drawer and pushes a few items aside to reveal the small velvet box he’s had tucked away for several months.   
  
Jason will never ask him. Not with his myriad of issues and feelings of inadequacy. Tim just hopes he doesn’t get a gun pulled on him for his crappy sense of timing.   
  
He finds Jason in the bedroom, still sitting on the end of their bed and slumped over staring blankly at the floor. Tim can’t even begin to imagine what he’s feeling right now. All he knows is that he’s going to be here to support and stand with him no matter what happens. He kneels on the floor and looks up at Jason, taking in his closed off face.   
  
“Jay?” he asks softly, rubbing his hands over the soft denim on his knees. “I’m not going to ask if you’re okay. I know you’re not.”  
  
Jason’s lips twitch slightly at that. “Nope. My entire life has just taken a 180.” He rubs at his face and sighs. “Christ, you must think I’m such a freak.”  
  
“I’m pretty sure you’ve called me that more often than I ever have you.” It’s a common nickname for Tim and they both know it, considering some of his less than normal habits.   
  
“Yeah, but now I really am. Not only am I a zombie, but now I’m a knocked up zombie.”   
  
Tim runs his hands higher up Jason’s thighs as he rises to press a soft kiss against Jason’s lips. “So what does that make me? Since I’m the one who’s screwing the zombie?”  
  
Jason finally laughs. It’s broken and jagged, but it’s still a laugh. “Tim, what the fuck are we gonna do?”   
  
“I don’t know, Jay.” Tim draws in a deep breath and drops one hand to fumble around in his pocket, drawing out the box. “But I do know that I will be here with you each step of the way, no matter what happens next. I know this is probably a bad time, but marry me?”   
  
He holds up the box and opens it, revealing the dark gray band of tungsten carbide. The color seemed more appropriate to Jason than any of the other rings Tim looked at.   
  
Jason visibly startles and rears back. “What the shit, Tim? You springing this on me just because I’m having your kid?”  
  
Tim knew this would happen, but it’s still better than the gun. “I’ve had this ring for almost six months,” he says simply, knowing Jason will put together the rest.   
  
“Oh.” Jason reaches out and runs a finger over the band. “Why now?”  
  
“To prove to you that I’m not going anywhere. That I love you and don’t think you’re a freak. We’ll get through this, Jason. Together.”   
  
Jason stares at the ring some more before he takes it out of the box and puts it on. “You’re still a freak,” he says.   
  
Tim drops the box and presses his hands against Jason’s thighs again, rising up to capture his lips. “Always.”


	55. Prompt 18 (JayTim)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can be read as a prequel to chapter 30, the JayKyle Private Investigator AU. clarityhiding (@themandylion on tumblr) is working on a much larger story in this AU world of mine!

There are times when Tim feels as though he lives in an alternate reality, where the current moment is so surreal that it falls outside of everything he has experienced.   
  
This is one of those moments.   
  
He adjusts the curtains again and more light streams in to highlight and shadow different parts of Jason’s body. All that bare skin makes his mouth water but Tim reins in his instinctual response, even if it is difficult when Jason is giving him that hooded look that screams all the dirty things he’s thinking about doing to him.  
  
“Are you done yet?” Jason asks, shifting on the bed. He’s sprawled out across their bed, laying on his stomach. The white of the down comforter contrasts starkly against his tanned skin. They’d been to the beach the week before, a private beach owned by Jason’s adopted father, and the man didn’t see much need to wear anything when there weren’t prying eyes around.   
  
It bothered Tim a bit then, but he’s all for it now as there are no distracting tan lines to edit out of his pictures later. “Almost,” he replies to his fiancé.   
  
Tim returns to his camera and checks the settings again. He takes a test shot, then adds a filter when he doesn’t like what he sees on the digital display. This may be an art project that Jason is amusing him on, but he’ll be damned if it doesn’t turn out perfect.   
  
Jason shifts again, revealing the long line of his thigh, thick and heavy with corded muscle. He bends his knee and props himself up to mock glare at Tim. His hair is a disheveled mess from where Tim ran his hands through it earlier. “How naughty are these pictures going to be?”  
  
“I’m not taking pictures of your junk,” Tim replies, taking another picture and inspecting it with a critical eye. The light is perfect and the filter softens it more, giving Jason a hazy glow. These are going to be stunning when he develops them. Black and white for sure.   
  
“You’re the only one I’d let,” Jason replies. He rolls onto his back, revealing the chiseled lines of his torso, and a thin trail of hair over his abdomen ending in a dark nest around his half hard cock. There’s a challenging look in Jason’s eyes.   
  
Despite himself, Tim takes a picture. “Raise the knee closest to me,” he says, finally giving Jason some direction. “I love your dick but that’s not what I’m after right now.”   
  
“What are you after?” Jason asks, complying with Tim’s request. He pointedly stretches and Tim snaps another picture, moving in a little closer to get a different angle.   
  
“Perfection.”  
  
Jason snorts, trying hard not to laugh. “Tim, I hate to break it to you, but if you’re looking for the perfect body, perhaps Dick should be laying here instead of me.”  
  
Tim lowers his camera, frowning. “Why would I want to take a picture of your brother?”  
  
“Because he’s hot and is an actual model?” Jason retorts, running a hand through his hair.   
  
Tim manages to catch the movement at the last second and wants to cry over how perfect Jason’s jaw appears in the shot. “Jason, do you have any idea what you are to me?”  
  
“Your fiancé?”  
  
“No, you dolt.” Tim sits down and traces a finger between the broad planes of Jason’s chest. It is a movement he’s done many times with his tongue and he knows Jason is remembering it too as a flash of heat enters his blue-green eyes. “You’re my favorite muse.”   
  
He punctuates his statement with a kiss, right over Jason’s heart.   
  
“You’re a sap,” Jason replies brusquely, but there’s a faint hint of pink on his cheeks that belies his tone.   
  
Tim kisses him again, lingering over the spot. He can feel Jason’s heart beating faster beneath him. “Perhaps, but you’re the one lying here buck-naked just because I asked.”  
  
There’s another flash in Jason’s eyes. “Then perhaps the photographer should take his clothes off too. Might make this more interesting.”  
  
Tim laughs as he stands and removes his shirt, humoring Jason. “This is supposed to be a photoshoot, not a porno.”   
  
“Who says it can’t be both?”


	56. Prompt 37 (JayTim)

The ballroom was more crowded than Tim had ever seen it before. He wasn’t sure what it was about a masquerade but it made people excited and they flocked to Wayne Manor, to see and be seen. The costumes around him were elaborate, people bedecked in rich fabrics, elaborate designs, and feathered masks.   
  
Tim’s own costume made him laugh when Alfred first showed it to him. He liked the deep blues and silver thread in the heavily embroidered jacket but he did find the black pants to be a bit snug, which was saying something considering what he wore most nights while on patrol. Leather boots and a large hat with a long plume of white feathers completed the outfit. Rather than wear a full mask, Tim opted for a half mask that covered one side of his face and used makeup to shadow his eyes more.  
  
Still, even all the bedazzled costumes in the world couldn’t keep Tim engaged. Events like this were nothing but trouble as far as he was concerned. He knew without a doubt that there were two cat thieves hiding amongst the crowd. As long as Selina and Jason kept their sights on the oblivious upper crust members of society and didn’t wander into other parts of the Manor, Tim couldn’t bring himself to care about their penchant for sticky fingers and shiny objects.  
  
Over the rim of his champagne flute, Tim found Bruce, dressed all in white for a change. Next to him, in a sparkly (and slinky) red dress was a short haired woman who was in the act of removing Bruce’s hat and placing it on her head. Selina cut a striking figure, Tim would grant her that.   
  
If she’s bothering Bruce though, then where was Jason?   
  
Tim scanned the room again, but at ground level, it was hard to get a good view of anything. He set down his champagne and made his way over to the hidden staircase that led up to the balcony overlooking the large room. This was closed to the public, so his privacy was mostly assured.   
  
High above, Tim assessed the ebb and flow of the large crowd. Morals were definitely loose tonight as he caught any number of people sneaking surreptitious touches or even kisses in shadowed corners. The lighting was dimmer than usual, creating the perfect atmosphere for a stolen romance.  
  
Or just for stealing.   
  
A slight shift in the air was all the warning Tim had to alert him that he was no longer alone. He turned smoothly, the Tim Drake-Wayne smile sliding into place and an excuse for being up here on the tip of his tongue. But he let them both fall when he saw who had joined him.   
  
Jason, dressed as a swashbuckling pirate, complete with a broad rimmed hat topped with a massive red feather.   
  
Tim smirked even as the man handed him one of the champagne flutes he carried. “Give up the leather and latex tonight?”  
  
“Had to look the part.” Jason twirled slightly, showing off the cut of his coat and the fit of his pants. His thighs drew Tim’s attention more, just as they always did. “You look bored outta your gourd. Come up here to get some air?”   
  
“No, I came to look for you actually,” Tim admitted, sipping from the glass. He made a face at the overly sweet taste of sparkling cider. “What am I, twelve?” he asked dryly.   
  
Jason grinned, the same feral one that always led to rooftop chases and stolen moments on fire escapes or pressed against the rooftops. “Last time I checked, you haven’t been for awhile.” He winked, the movement barely visible under his hat and mask.   
  
Tim fought down the flush he could feel rising up the back of his neck. He wasn’t sure what it was between them, but Stray was to Red Robin the way Catwoman was to Batman. The sexual tension and energy between them was thick and could be cut with a knife. It had always been that way, even before Tim really knew what it meant. They still fumbled around each other, but each encounter grew more and more intense and undoubtedly would culminate in something soon.   
  
“Last time you checked, you’d barely gotten your hand down my pants when Damian interrupted us,” Tim retorted with a smirk of his own.   
  
“The little brat is a cockblock, just like his big brother.”  
  
Tim laughed at that because it was so very true. “Dick likes to think he’s saving my virtue.”  
  
Jason set his glass down on the railing and tipped Tim’s chin up to capture his lips with his own. “What virtue?” he whispered. “Does he know where that pretty mouth of yours has been or what your fingers have touched?”   
  
It was difficult to gather his thoughts as those exact memories came to mind. Tim remembered all too well the weight of Jason’s cock in his mouth and the tight ring of muscle under his probing fingers. “No,” Tim replied, daring to press his lips against the line of Jason’s jaw. “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”   
  
“Hmm,” Jason purred as Tim worked his way up and nipped gently at a sensitive spot behind the man’s ear. It always made him shudder and he did it without fail. “How secure are we up here?”  
  
Not enough and they both knew it. Not from the prying eyes of Tim’s family. Tim growled in frustration and pulled away. “Now who’s being the cockblock?”   
  
“Just saving us the agony later. Look.” Jason nodded down towards the ballroom floor and Tim turned, following his line of sight.   
  
Dick was working his way through the crowd, clearly heading towards the balcony door Tim and Jason used.   
  
“Son of bitch,” Tim swore. He grabbed Jason by his coat sleeve and dragged him towards the opposite end of the balcony. There was another door here, one that led back down onto the crowded floor. It didn’t matter if Dick found them there, but seeing him willfully invading their privacy up here pissed Tim off. Payback was going to be slow and painful.   
  
Down on the ballroom floor, Tim tugged Jason out onto the dance floor. “May I have this dance?” he asked with a playful bow.   
  
“Only if it ticks off Dick.”   
  
Tim took that as a yes and wrapped his arms around Jason’s neck and waist, guiding him into the dance. “Keep an eye out for Damian. They could be working together tonight.”  
  
Jason snorted but did as he was told. “At least the girls like me.”  
  
Stephanie and Cassandra adore Jason for some reason Dick and Damian couldn’t understand. Tim didn’t try to, relieved as he was to have some support. He glanced at the watch he’d snuck onto his wrist after Alfred finished helping him dress and softly crowed in delight. “If we can hold out for another thirty minutes, Dick and the demon will leave for patrol,” he told Jason quietly.   
  
“Really now?” Jason sounded all too pleased by the prospect. “That changes my plans.”  
  
Tim spun them through a turn, catching the eye of a glaring Damian as he did. “What plans would those be?”  
  
“The one where I sweep you off your feet in some secluded spot in the garden and show you my booty.”   
  
“Oh my god,” Tim wheezed as he tried valiantly not to laugh. “That was awful.” Then, because this was Stray he was dancing with...”How much actual booty have you claimed tonight?”  
  
Jason grinned at him, a roguish twist on his lips. “You’re welcome to do a full body search to find out.”


	57. Prompt #44 (DamiJon)

Damian quietly cleared his throat and purposefully ignored the raw tingling he felt each time he swallowed. It was simply the cold and damp weather disagreeing with him and nothing a cup of hot tea with some honey wouldn’t cure when he arrived home. Even after years of patroling Gotham, he still secretly yearned for dry heat that scorches the skin and sears the lungs if you stand unprotected under the afternoon sun. But Gotham was not the desert, was the furthest thing from it. This was home now and his to protect.  

By the end of his patrol, the raw feeling could no longer be ignored, and Damian was willing to admit the flush he normally sported after a successful patrol was likely from a low grade fever. Rather than bother Alfred, he made his way into the kitchen after he showered and cleaned up to make a small pot of tea. Chamomile and mint with a hint of lemon and a generous dollop of honey soothed his aching throat, just as he knew it would. His body ached, and Damian mentally reassessed the fever because his patrol had not been all that strenuous. He poured another cup of tea and prepared it the same way, then took his mug and some cold medicine upstairs to his room.  

The large bed beckoned, but Damian purposefully finished his tea and took the medicine before he laid down between the cool sheets.  

He dreamed of red sands tinted by the setting sun, of pale blue skies bleached by the heat, of palm trees and figs and rose water.  

When he awoke, Damian felt sweaty and stifled by the heavy blankets. He kicked them off and immediately shivered as cool air caressed his body.  

His phone rang, an annoyingly cheerful ringtone that he only ever used for one person. “What?” he answered, not even bothering with a veneer of civility. The thickness of his voice did not sound good. 

“Whoa, you sound like you swallowed a bullfrog!” Jon said with some concern. “You feeling okay?” 

Damian could lie, but it was pointless when his boyfriend would see right through it. “No.” Short words didn’t hurt his throat.  

“Yeah, you must be miserable if you’re not trying to brush it off. I guess that means we’re not going out for dinner then.” 

Squinting at his clock, Damian saw it was already early evening. He was supposed to have left half an hour ago to pick up Jon for their anniversary dinner tonight. Why didn’t anyone try and wake him up? “Sorry. Give me a little bit to clean up and take some more medicine, and I can…” 

“You can stay right where you are,” Jon ordered, pulling that _don’t mess with me_  tone he only ever seemed to use on stubborn bats. “How about I bring dinner to you? I think some soup would go down great right now.” 

Damian was too miserable to argue. “Fine.” 

He hung up and forced himself out of bed to the bathroom. The washcloth on his fevered skin helped make him feel a little more human, as did brushing his teeth, which got rid of that mucus coating in his mouth. More tea was the only thing he craved, so Damian carefully ventured downstairs. 

Alfred was in the kitchen working on dinner. He looked up as Damian entered and narrowed his eyes. “Good evening, Master Damian. I thought you looked a little off color when I checked in on you earlier and I see I was right.” 

“I think I have a cold,” Damian admitted. The raw feeling was returning to his throat. He listed off his symptoms, pointedly staying in the doorway so as to not breath on the old butler. “Jon is bringing me soup.” 

“Such a nice boy,” Alfred replied with a hint of fondness. “Why don’t you go sit over there and I’ll make you some tea to take with your medicine.” 

Damian retreated to the breakfast nook where he must have dozed off because when he next took notice of his surroundings, there was a steaming cup of tea in front of him, a couple of cookies, and a medicine capsule, different from the one he took earlier this morning. He sipped his tea and sat in a bleary daze, listening to Alfred putter around.  

Somewhere in the midst of this, Jon arrived with a big takeout bag. 

“Hey, Dames,” he said and took a seat across from him. “You look like crud.” 

“You’re not at home, you can say crap,” Damian retorted. It was a long standing argument between them, one that didn’t have any heat behind it, but good natured ribbing instead. 

“No, but Alfred is right here, so I’d rather not put anything in the swear jar.” 

“Todd just puts a twenty in whenever he’s here to be done with it.” 

“Smart.” Jon unpacked the large bag and retrieved some soup bowls. “I remembered that Tim always swears by spicy soup when he’s sick, so I got pho for us. You can doctor it with chili oil and lime if you want.” 

Damian has seen his brother practically live on this soup when he’s particularly under the weather, which was more often than the rest of the family. He silently accepted his bowl and added a generous helping of chili oil, as well as lime and fresh Thai basil. He doesn’t taste much of anything at first, but then the spicy heat cuts through and his nose started dripping as though a faucet had been turned on. Jon silently handed him a pile of napkins for him to blow his nose into. 

It helped, it really did, but Damian still felt miserable, in more ways than one. “I am sorry I ruined our anniversary.” 

Jon shook his head, his mop of black curls spilling in complete disarray as usual. “Don’t be. It happens. Besides, it’s not like you got sick on purpose.” 

Most definitely not. “I will make it up to you.” 

“I know you will even if you really don’t have to. We’re still together tonight and that’s what matters.” 

Damian cradled his cup of tea and stared across the table at Jon. His boyfriend of two years now and one of his oldest friends. The person who brought so much light and happiness into his life. His partner in all ways. One day, he would ask Jon a very important question, he knew this without a doubt. But that day was not today. They both have things to do first, lives to establish, and identities to make their own. For now, this was enough.  

“Do you want to watch a movie?” Jon asked, shifting slightly under Damian’s heavy gaze. “Or I can go if you’re not feeling up for company.” 

“I’d like it if you stayed,” Damian replied. He finished his tea and held out his mug. “If you make me another cup, I’ll put on a movie in the den. No one will bother us in there.” 

“Sure.” Jon stood and took the mug. “It can even be one of those foreign movies you like so much. Just make sure to turn on the subtitles.”


	58. Fantasy prompt: How many baby dragons did you say you adopted?

Clark and Diana exchanged a concerned look, one that Bruce pointedly ignored as he tended to the young fire drake currently rooting around in the coals of the fireplace. It may be too hot for him, but to Tim, it was a perfect place for a nap. 

Dragons this young had a hard time regulating temperature and it wasn’t as though Bruce could wrap him in a thermal blanket. He’d tried that with Jason and nearly electrocuted himself and the little dragon when Jason bit it. 

Dick had been so much easier to deal with. All Bruce had to really do was tie a long cord around the sky dragon’s foot to keep him from floating away. He’d looked rather like a balloon… 

“Bruce,” Diana said, using a tone that meant she knew she was on thin ice and didn’t care. “Kal and I are a bit concerned.” 

Ah, that’s why they were here. Bruce used an insulated glove to carefully nudge some coals around Tim’s feet. He tended to sprawl when he napped. “Is this an intervention?” 

Clark cleared his throat, uncomfortable with the fact that he was here but still doing it anyway. “Sort of. How many baby dragons did you say you’ve adopted? This one makes three, Bruce. Three.” 

Bruce stood and glared at his two friends. Well, one friend and one close and respected colleague. “I can count.” 

“What I’m more curious about is how you keep finding them.” Diana laid a hand on Bruce’s arm. “Dragons are rare enough as it is and yet, here you are with a sky and two fire dragons.” 

To his credit, Bruce didn’t shrug off her hand immediately. “This is Gotham. Are you really surprised by what goes on here?”


	59. Fantasy prompt: We cannot let the fairies see this. (JayTim)

Sometimes, Jason really wondered how this kind of thing always seemed to happen to him. Magic wasn’t really his schtick, but when you’re the guardian to one of the most gifted mages in an age, well, weird shit kinda became the norm. 

Especially considering how erratic Tim’s powers got when he was sleep deprived. Case in point, the mystical, moonlit forest they were currently in, trapped by a fairy ring of glowing mushrooms. He had to admit, it was new. 

Jason nudged Tim in the face to wake him up. “Have a nice nap, sweetheart?” 

Beneath him, Tim groaned and blinked blearily. “What happened?” 

“You tell me. One moment I was in bed with a book and my tea and the next I’m naked and surrounded by mushrooms.” 

Tim glanced around at the fairy ring they were trapped in. “Oh.” 

“Oh?” Jason growled and tried hard not to react to Tim’s fidgeting beneath him. He was also not wearing any clothes, a fact he was all too aware of. “What the fuck were you working on?” 

“Nothing,” Tim said a little too quickly. “That is…” 

“Tim,” Jason said warningly. “What were you doing?” 

The mage started to blush, color tinting his cheeks and spreading down his neck. “I, uh, um, may have been experimenting with faerie dust.” 

“Faerie dust?” It was rhetorical and they both knew it. Jason shook his head. “Jesus, fuck. You know we’re stuck, right?” 

“I figured as much considering you’re naked and I’m naked. Usually that makes you turn and run in the opposite direction.” There was a hint of defensiveness in Tim’s voice and he averted his eyes. 

Jason sighed and tried yet again to roll off Tim, but whatever magic was keeping them here wasn’t letting him move, even though there was some space within the ring where he could curl up given the chance. “Tim, we’ve had this conversation before. I’m your guardian. I’m supposed to protect you, not fuck you against the first available horizonal surface.” 

“It could be vertical too. I’m totally game for that if you are.” Tim winked, regaining his usual confidence in a heartbeat. He purposefully arched his back, forcing his hips upwards with clear intent. 

“Tim…” Christ, did Jason want to. He wanted his perfectly erratic mage wrapped around him. Wanted to be in him or even the other way around, he wasn’t picky. He wanted it all. 

“Please, Jason.” Tim wrapped his arms around Jason’s neck. “I’ve loved you since before I even accepted your bond. Plenty of mages and their guardians have relationships, so why do you keep holding back when I know you feel the same way I do?” 

All the reasons Jason normally repeated on a daily basis flew right out of his mind as he took in the sight of Tim laying so perfectly against the dewy grass, his pale skin shining in the moonlight. Why did he keep fighting it? Why couldn’t he be happy for once in his life and accept what was being freely offered to him? “I love you too,” he said after too long of a pause where Tim started to draw away from him. 

The words were like a light switch and Tim smiled sweetly up at him. His lips parted, ghosting over Jason’s in a feather soft kiss that swiftly escalated into something much harder and deeper as they explored and learned each other in a whole new way, forging an even stronger connection than they’d ever had before. 

Afterwards, Jason discovered he could move again and rolled over, pulling Tim on top of him to hold him close. “I can’t believe we just did that here. We can’t let the faeries see this. They’ll never let us hear the end of it.” 

Tim placed a gentle kiss on Jason’s jaw. “Too late for that. Who do you think dragged us here in the first place?”


	60. Fantasy prompt: Just because you suddenly have the ability to wield fire does not mean you can cook wherever it pleases you! (JayTim)

Exhausted didn’t even begin to describe how Tim felt right now. He had spent all day at WE, sure, but he’d also been at the cave last night subjecting himself to a barrage of tests that Bruce came up with to test his newfound abilities. Or rather, ability. 

He could now walk through walls. 

In Bruce’s mind, this instantly put him on the watchlist for having an even stronger propensity to turn rogue. Which, after Tim’s own hitlist, he could completely understand. For now, he’s benched. 

This was fine with him because that meant no patrol and he could catch a few hours of sleep before heading down to his own workroom to run his own tests. Perhaps Jason would be willing to join him since he’d also gotten whammied by that weird orange ray the other night too. 

Not that Bruce knew this. Yet. As Jason said, he and the Batman weren’t exactly _simpatico_ at the moment. Tim thought Jason had spent too much time watching Disney, but whatever. 

Tim parked the street legal version of his Redbird in the garage of his apartment and sighed heavily, leaning against the steering wheel. He could take a nap right here and no one would be wiser. 

His phone rang. 

So much for his nap. 

“What?” Tim asked, not even bothering with the usual pleasantries. 

“Sounds like someone crawled out from the wrong side of the grave,” Jason said in a breezy tone. 

“I have been awake for almost 36 hours straight and only slept for about four hours the day before that. Besides, I didn’t see you heading to the cave last night to put yourself through the wringer.” 

“And that’s why I’m smarter than you. Get your ass upstairs. Dinner’s almost ready.” 

Tim’s stomach took that moment to remind him he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. “Fine.” He sounded sullen and didn’t care. Nope. This was him not caring in the slightest that his sorta, kinda boyfriend was upstairs making dinner for him. 

No one knew. Well, besides them. Tim was hesitant to even call it dating, but there were some rather intense make-out sessions and handjobs involved, so it was _something_. 

Getting out of the car and up the flight of stairs was almost more than Tim could handle. His body protested the strain, muscles aching in places he didn’t even know he could hurt. He purposefully opened the door leading into his apartment rather than walking right through it. That took energy he didn’t have. 

The first thing that greeted him was the scent of ozone. Something had been burning. 

Had Jason lit himself on fire again? It had been scary the first time, but hilarious the second time he accidently did it. The third time, they’d started keeping a bucket of water and a fire extinguisher close at hand. 

“Jason?” Tim called out warily. 

“I’m in the bathroom!” a distant voice shouted from upstairs. 

For a split second, Tim was going to leave it be and give the man some privacy. But then he noticed there was nothing on the stove and that the oven wasn’t even on. Tim frowned and glanced towards the stairs leading up to the second level of his converted theater. 

He wouldn’t. Would he? 

Oh, who was Tim trying to kid. This was Jason, of course he would. 

Tim trekked up the other flight of stairs and down the hall to his bedroom. The door was wide open, as was the door that opened into his spacious bathroom. 

A bathroom that was apparently now a converted kitchen. Hot pads rested on the marble countertop with a sauce pan and a small casserole dish resting on them. What made Tim get really riled up though was Jason. He was naked to the waist and seated in the bathtub, a heavy skillet in one hand and a ball of fire in the other one. Charred remnants of his shirt lay in a sodden mess on the floor. 

Jason looked up at Tim and grinned brightly. “Dinner’s almost done.” 

Tim resisted the urge to throw something at him. “Jason! Just because you suddenly have the ability to wield fire does not mean you can use it to cook wherever it pleases you! That’s why I have a kitchen!” 

The man was completely unrepentant. “You do your thing to figure out your powers and I’ve got my way. At least mine are useful.” 

“I can walk through walls,” Tim replied flatly, still peeved about the mess that was in his bathroom. “I’m never going to have to pick a lock again.”


	61. Fantasy prompt: I was trying a new spell and things got out of hand... really out of hand. (JayTim)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can be read as a sequel to "We cannot let the fairies see this."

As soon as Jason hit the wall, thrown back by the force of Tim’s magic, he couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps he was in the wrong line of work. Being a guardian was great and all, he couldn’t deny that. However, there were times like these when he seriously questioned his life choices. 

“Ow,” he managed to get out once he could breathe again. His head was still spinning from the impact. 

“Oh, my god, Jason! I am so sorry!” Tim rushed forward and knelt next to him, cradling his body in his arms. “I was trying a new spell and, well, things got out of hand… Really out of hand.” 

“I know I didn’t startle you. I’ve been in here the entire time.” Jason tried to puzzle out what went wrong with the spell Tim was working on. He knew spell components and what they did to enhance magic, but this was why Tim was the mage and not him. All the little nuances were beyond his capacity for understanding. 

“No, you didn’t. I just…” Tim blushed and looked down. “I may have been distracted.” 

“By what?” 

“Remember what we watched last night?” 

How could Jason forget? It was his first foray into animated porn. Needless to say, he’d gotten quite the education, as well as one very turned on mage who pretty much sat on his dick for the night. 

Good times.

“Yeah…” Jason said warily, not sure where Tim was going with this. 

“Well…” Tim looked down again and that was when Jason realized the mage wasn’t being evasive. He was looking at something rather specific. 

Jason lowered his gaze and immediately stiffened at the sight of the tentacles that had replaced his legs. He counted six before he jerked his eyes back up to Tim. “You motherfucker. You’re gonna fix this, _right?”_  

Tim nodded vehemently. “Yes! Yes, I swear, I’m going to reverse it once I figure out what I did.” 

Good God, Jason wanted to smack Tim into next week for this. “Figure it out fast. Just, get me into the bathtub or something first because I have no idea how long those should be out of the water.” 

One of the tentacles started moving on its own volition, tentatively touching Tim before curling around his wrist. The mage stared, completely entranced. Jason did not miss the obvious twitch of interest coming from Tim’s pants, situated as he was in his lap. 

“Tim,” Jason said warningly as he tried to gain control of the wayward appendage. “Don’t even think about it. Not until you figure out how to reverse it.” 

The mage wet his lips, eyes already slightly out of focus as one of his fantasies came to life. “Can we do it just once? _Please?”_  

Jason sighed in exasperation. Clearly there was no reasoning with Tim while he had tentacles below the waist. “Just once. _After_ you figure out what you did wrong.” 

It would also give him time to figure out how to work all these extra limbs because dammit, if he was going to do this, he was doing it _right._


	62. Fantasy prompt: Howling at every full moon is a lot of pointless work. (JayTim)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can be read as a prequel to "Call to Me (You Said My Name)".

Jason sat at his crappy kitchen table and toyed with his water bottle. Across from him sat the pretender himself, who appeared just as subdued as he was. Shifting, Jason stopped shredding the label and forced himself to look up at Tim. 

“How the fuck did I not have a clue that you’re a werewolf?” 

Tim shrugged and took a swig of water from his bottle. “There was never any reason to tell you.” 

“Yeah, I get that, but do you have any idea the amount of intel Talia and the League has on you?” This was _not_ in the files he’d read a couple years ago on his replacement. 

“Quite a bit, I’d imagine. But this was a secret I worked hard to keep even more so than Robin.” 

“Why?” Jason leaned back in his rickety chair. His apartment didn’t have the greatest furniture, third-hand at best save for his bed. “Bruce had to know right away. Him and his _files_.” 

But Tim surprised him by shaking his head. “He didn’t know until after the quake when I came back to Gotham. There was a full moon and I had no choice.” 

“What did he do?” A number of thoughts came to mind, knowing Bruce as he did. 

“During? Not a damn thing he could do except send me off to track some people.” Tim shrugged and sipped his water some more. “When I shifted back that morning, Alfred made him keep his distance until I got some sleep. Afterward…” he trailed off, remembering what was apparently a rough time if the frown on his face meant anything. Jason couldn’t be sure since his replacement was the consummate actor. “Afterward, I went through a rather brutal interrogation since the only knowledge Bruce had on weres at all were changed ones. I was born this way and so were my parents. There are some different rules for us, ones I had to spell out in explicit detail.” 

The levels of suppressed frustration and anger coming off Tim could only be from someone who has experienced the paranoia of the Bat first hand. No amount of acting could fake that. 

“And now?” Jason asked cautiously. The news that the pretender was a pureblooded werewolf explained a whole hell of a lot, especially how all his attempts to kill the little fucker back then failed. 

Tim shrugged. “I do my own thing. A scratch from me won’t do a damn thing to a person and it’s not like I go out of my way to bite people, in this form or my other one.” 

Jason shook his head and sipped his water. “You sure about that? The whole reason we’re even having this conversation is because you seemed pretty driven to rip my throat out last night.” Coming upon a massive black wolf standing over the Red Robin uniform down by the docks had been a shocker. He’d honestly thought the wolf had killed Tim until he’d gotten closer and realized the uniform was empty. 

“You shot me,” Tim said with a glower. “Your bullets don’t do much damage, but they still hurt, you jackass.” 

“Didn’t stop you from attacking me.” 

“I wasn’t going to bite you. I have more control than that.” 

“Tell that to my poor damaged psyche. Like I need another nightmare to add to the group.” Although this was pretty low on his list of traumas, so Tim the werewolf wasn’t likely to make an appearance all that often. Not that he needed to know this. Jason scrubbed a hand over his face and sighed. They were starting to go around in circles. Apologies sucked, but he owed Tim one after last night. “Look, what I’m trying and failing to say here is I’m sorry for shooting your fluffy ass.” 

The righteous indignation on Tim’s face had Jason biting back a laugh. “My ass is not fluffy!” 

“Says the man who turns into a wolf and howls at every full moon.” 

Tim threw his empty water bottle at him. “Howling at every full moon is a lot of pointless work. I think I’ll start chasing you around as payback for messing up my drug bust last night.” 

Jason scoffed and chucked the bottle right back at Tim. “Note to self, call animal control to report a rabid werewolf is stalking me.” 

“Aw, is someone afraid of the big bad wolf?” Tim teased, his eyes shining with suppressed laughter. 

“Nope. But I sure as fuck am not gonna be your little red riding hood.”


	63. Car Wash (JayTim)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another Tumblr prompt!

Tim smirked to himself as he dropped his soapy sponge in the red plastic bucket. He’d have to bend over to pick it up again and damn if he wasn’t going to put on a show in the process. Behind him, sitting in a lounge chair with some freshly made lemonade, was Jason, relaxing and relishing the fruits of his labor. Or in this case, winning a bet. 

Too bad Jason had no clue Tim lost that bet on purpose. 

Sure, he put in the effort, made it look like he was giving it his all (and at one point, he almost thought he’d win until Jason stepped up to the plate), but in the end, Tim admitted defeat. The things he did for the greater good. 

In this case, it was being Jason’s servant for the afternoon. 

The man had no clue what he was in for. For months, they’ve been playing a game of cat and mouse, their hard earned friendship taking on a new aspect as they started flirting and teasing each other in and out of the mask. Stephanie had told them on more than one occasion to get a room while Damian threatened to castrate them both if they didn’t stop it. They laughed it off, but there were lingering glances on both sides that gave Tim the belief that this may not be as one-sided as he thought. 

Time to end this. 

Tim picked up the hose and sprayed the beat up car, sending soap suds flying. He may have overdone it, but hey, he was a man on a mission. And a soaking wet t-shirt and clingy shorts were on the menu. The mist from the water hitting the car ricocheted back to soak him even more. 

“I think you missed the tires there, Timmy,” Jason offered helpfully from his seat on the lawn chair when Tim dropped the hose. 

“No, just saving them for last.” 

They would be his final salvo. The car wash may have been Jason’s idea for putting Tim to work, but damn if he wasn’t going to make it his own. If this didn’t get Jason to admit he desired him, then Tim would have to take matters into his own hands. 

Perhaps with the spray hose. 

“You really need to take better care of your car,” Tim commented as he slowly knelt down to retrieve his sponge, making sure that the angle was just right for Jason to take in the leanly muscled lines of his own thighs. Thick was not a word to describe Tim at all, but he wasn’t a slouch when it came time to hit the gym. “If you’ve got another few hundred miles left to these tires, I’d be surprised.” 

It took Jason a moment to reply. Sneaking a peek over his shoulder, Tim suppressed a grin. The man’s eyes were glued to his backside. “Yeah, well, not all of us have Bat-funded bank accounts.” 

“Like it’s that hard for you to swindle money from drug lords and put it to better use.” Tim stood and artfully squeezed the sponge over the bucket, water and soap dripping down his hands. 

He turned back to the car and knelt, feeling the wet shorts stretch across his bottom. That wasn’t all Tim felt as he started washing the grubby hubcap. Jason’s gaze burned as hot as the afternoon sun. 

It didn’t escape Tim’s notice that when he moved to the other side of the car, Jason stood and approached, ostensibly to inspect his work. Inwardly, he crowed in delight as the taller man stood almost directly behind him while he washed the third tire. 

“Tim,” came Jason’s voice, low and husky. “What are you doing to me?” 

“What do you think I’m doing?” It was not an innocent answer, Tim made sure Jason could tell. 

“I think you’re trying to drive me insane.” 

“Hmm…is it working?” 

Jason knelt behind Tim, spreading his knees wide so that Tim’s body fit perfectly within the cage of steely muscle. “Yeah, it’s working.” 

Tim melted back into Jason’s embrace. Victory had never felt so good.


	64. Chilidogs and Coffee Milkshakes (Dick & Jason & Tim)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can be read as a sequel to _The Great Minivan Escape_ but there's no need to read that first unless you want to laugh at Jason and Dick.

Dick knew he was pushing his luck even attempting something like this. But when he saw the headline on his phone about National Chili Dog Day while scrolling through the news, he couldn’t resist. Jason was in Gotham for a change and this could be a good chance for him to spend some time with his brother in a situation that didn’t involve guns and grenades. 

Or RPGs and minivans. 

For this to work though, he needed a plan. There were a ton of street vendors in the city that made Jason’s favorite food, but there were also some food trucks and a couple of hole in the wall restaurants that did some pretty kick ass chili too. Jason, for all his bluff and bluster and ability to eat anything that was placed in front of him, was a food snob at heart. If Dick didn’t map this out right, his brother would bail on him without a second thought. 

Plans and contingencies were soon set, and Dick picked up his phone to call Jason. 

He didn’t answer. Big surprise. 

This was why texting was a thing. 

_Want to meet for lunch? I’m feeling your favorite food for once._  

It didn’t take long for Jason to reply. Dick chuckled as he read the text. 

_The carnie brat going back to his roots?_  

_Something like that. I’m thinking Paulie’s over on Webster and 114 th._ 

This was a place they’d been to before, ages ago when he had no idea what to do with a little brother and only made periodic attempts to be a big brother. Jason had liked it then, but Dick wasn’t sure if that was him just humoring him or not. 

_That place is pretty decent. 12:30?_

Dick grinned. For Jason to call a place decent meant they had to be really good. 

_Works for me. See you there._  

~*~*~ 

Jason knew by the third street cart selling chilidogs that he and Dick just so happened to pass by that his older brother was up to something. Did he think he was an idiot and missed seeing the National Chili Dog Day sign back at Paulie’s? Apparently so. 

Still, he was getting free food out of it, even if his gut was probably going to protest all the chili later. Good chili too. All these dogs were divine works of art compared to some of the crap he’d put in his mouth and deserved to be savored. 

“So,” Jason said around a mouthful of his fourth chilidog for the afternoon. “Where to next on your list?”

Dick had the grace to look sheepish, even if he tried to hide it behind his own dog, this one smothered in sauerkraut instead of chili. He’d said he wanted to mix it up. “Depends. How full are you?” 

At least he wasn’t trying to hide the fact he’d been caught red handed. Jason shrugged and took another bite. “I’m game for more, but what I really want is to get out of this fucking sauna. Why this day has to be in the middle of summer and during a heatwave is beyond me.” 

His brother finished his chilidog. “The next place has milkshakes.” 

That reminded Jason of something and he pulled out his phone after stuffing the rest of his chilidog in his mouth. Dick laughed at him as he wiped his fingers on the single napkin he’d been given to contain all the messy goodness, but whatever. He wasn’t out to win any popularity contests here. A few taps on the screen had him smirking, quite the feat considering his mouth was still full. He shoved the phone in Dick’s face.

His brother’s eyes widened. “National Coffee Milkshake Day. Damn, how I did miss this?” 

Jason finally swallowed. “I think there’s another little bird who could benefit from big brother’s attention today.” 

“You don’t mind the company?”

The Pretender didn’t ruffle Jason’s feathers as much as he used to. There was a new bird for that. “If it bothered me, would I have mentioned it?” 

Dick glanced at his watch. “Tim’s at work right now. WE.” 

“When was the last time he got out and had some quality bonding time with big brothers one and two?” Jason knew pulling the brother card would work. Besides, Timmy really did work too hard. He needed a life. “You know what they say about all work and no play.” 

“Sold. Come on, let’s arm ourselves and crash WE.” 

~*~*~ 

Tim glared at his two older brothers. Dick and Jason were seated in front of his desk looking all innocent, but he knew better. They were evil incarnate and had somehow dragged Tam into whatever scheme they were cooking. She’d looked all too pleased as she ushered them into his office, sipping at something Tim couldn’t quite make out before the door shut, trapping them in here with him. 

He wondered if they knew where his emergency exit was and started calculating how fast it would take him to get there if things went south. 

“Whatever it is, I don’t have time for it.” Tim tried to dismiss his brothers, not that he expected it to work this early in the game. Dick and Jason together were a force to be reckoned with and he hadn’t had time to properly prepare a defense against them. It wasn’t as though either of them came barging into his office all that often. 

“Yeah, you do.” Jason bent over to pick up a slightly soggy brown paper bag and set it on his desk. It was sure to leave a mark if there weren’t coasters involved ASAP. 

Dick nodded in agreement. “We were celebrating National Chili Dog Day when Jason pointed out what else today is.” 

Like that explained anything. “What?” Tim asked warily. 

“National Coffee Milkshake Day.” Jason opened the bag to reveal three large styrofoam cups. “The coffee one is yours because you’re the only one who drinks that shit at this time of day.” He handed Tim the one with his name on it, along with a straw. 

“Oh.” Tim accepted it, surprised that this was Jason’s idea rather than Dick’s. 

“Don’t worry, we didn’t put a sedative in it,” Dick added. “Although in hindsight, we probably should have. Your bags have bags, Timmy.” 

Tim primly ripped the paper wrapping off his straw and stuck it through the opening in the lid. It tasted heavenly, if a little watery because of how long it took to get it here. “Just remember that you’re the one who gave me coffee this afternoon when I don’t go to sleep tonight.” 

“Dammit.”


	65. Gargoyles AU (DickTim)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is kind of dark and gory, so for those who don't like this kind of thing, may want to skip it.

Detective Dick Grayson frowned, the downward lines marring his handsome face. The shredded remains of the body laid out in what appeared to be some mystic circle was worth frowning over. Even for the `Haven, this was unusual. 

“Would you look at that?” Dick’s partner, Gannon Malloy, muttered as he knelt outside the chalk outline. The blood didn’t cross that line, Dick couldn’t help but notice. “That thigh bone looks like it was cracked in half.” 

The shear brutality of it all was horrific. “I’m more curious about what spread those ribs like that. I don’t think I’m going to look at a standing rib roast the same way again.” Dick was referring to the gaping chest cavity, raw and red under the harsh lights of the medical examiner. “Organs missing?” 

The ME standing next to him nodded. “Initial guess is the heart, lungs, and liver. They could be under that big pile of intestines, but I won’t know until I get her on the table.” 

“Her?” Gannon asked, looking back over his shoulder. 

“Did you miss the tits?” the ME snorted, rolling her eyes. “I know they’re not to your taste but come on. They’re right there, clear as day.” Dick liked working with Stephanie Brown. She didn’t take shit and gave it right back. 

A theory was starting to form in the back of his mind about what he was looking at. There were actual unseen forces at play here, ones that made him wish nightfall would get here sooner rather than later. 

Tim would have a field day with this one. 

~*~*~ 

Several hours later, Dick stood on the roof of his apartment building. Night had finally arrived, and Tim would be here any minute. He’d sent a message earlier to his supernatural partner in crime asking him to meet as soon as he awakened from his stone sleep. 

Dick felt the shift in the air behind him and turned, spotting the gargoyle as he landed gracefully, his bat-like wings folding behind him. It was incredible that such creatures existed, but then again, it was through his friendship with Tim that he even had an inkling about the unseen world that existed so close to his own. 

“Good evening, Dick,” Tim purred in a voice that was as smooth as his alabaster white skin. “Your message sounded urgent.” 

“That’s because it is. I need to get you to a crime scene ASAP before it gets even more messed up than it already is.” 

The dark haired gargoyle pouted, solid blue eyes flashing in the faint light from the streetlights below. “And here I was hoping you wanted to have some fun tonight.” 

Dick chuckled and caressed Tim’s cheek, the skin as cool as stone beneath his fingers. “If this wasn’t really important, I’d take you downstairs in a heartbeat. It’s been too long since the last time we were together.” 

Life had a way of interrupting even the best laid plans. 

Tim nuzzled the warm skin of Dick’s palm and nibbled the fleshy base of his thumb with his sharp fangs. “Fine. Crime scene first and then we’ll play. Deal?” 

“Deal.” 

~*~*~ 

“By the Lady above,” Tim swore reverently as he inspected the now empty circle. The whole area was still taped off as an active crime scene and while pains had been taken not to disturb it, there was no way to remove the body without damaging the lines. “You said there was a woman’s body in the center of it, right?” 

“Right. It looked like something forced their way out of her chest and ate a few things for a snack in the process. I have pictures...” Dick trailed off as he realized Tim was shaking his head. 

“I don’t need to see them. I know exactly what this is.” 

“Care to share with the rest of the class?” 

Tim’s long tail lashed wildly behind him as he came to a stop. “A demon was created here.” 

Dick’s heart sunk somewhere in the direction of the floor. “A demon? You mean they’re real?” 

“As real as me.” Tim dug into his pocket and pulled out a phone. This was one bit of modern technology all the gargoyles who called Blüdhaven and Gotham home seemed to embrace. After a moment whoever he was calling answered. “Bruce? You’re not going to believe what I’m looking at right now.” 

Dick recognized the name. Bruce was the leader of the Gotham clan, the same one Tim was technically a part of even if he lived in another city now. He’d moved to the `Haven when Dick did, telling him that someone with common sense needed to keep him in line. It wasn’t entirely untrue. Dick did tend to get distracted when absorbed in a case and little things like eating and laundry went by the wayside. 

Tim explained what was going on and nodded in agreement to whatever Bruce said. He held out the phone to Dick. “He wants to speak with you.” 

Okay, that was a first. “I didn’t think he liked me.” 

“He doesn’t, but that’s personal. This is professional.” 

Dick couldn’t refute that logic as he took Tim’s phone. “Hello, Bruce.” 

“Where is the body right now?” the ancient gargoyle ground out in a voice that sounded like two rocks rubbing against each other. 

“The city morgue. An autopsy is slated for morning.” 

“That body needs to be destroyed now. Tonight.” 

“Why?” Dick knew better than to question him, but he couldn’t help it. He was a cop. 

“None of your business.” 

“It is if I’m going body-snatching tonight. Do you have any idea how much trouble I can get into if I get caught?” 

“Do you want the demon egg that’s still waiting to be hatched to kill everyone in that building when they open up the stomach?” 

“See, this is why context is a good thing, Bruce. I’m much more willing to risk my job now. Thanks!” With that, Dick returned the phone to Tim, who was trying hard not to laugh. 

Bruce apparently had a few more words for Tim who just smiled and nodded before hanging up. “I love it when you piss him off like that. I thought only Jason could rile him up that much.” 

“It’s a gift.” 

~*~*~ 

Dick stared intently at the demon egg nestled within the stomach of his Jane Doe from earlier. Thanks to Tim and his computer skills, they’d been able to easily sneak into the Blüdhaven City Morgue and find the refrigerated drawer where the body was being kept. The way Tim so easily reached into the remains of her body to slice out the stomach was disturbing, but Dick was quickly reevaluating that assessment as something much more foul tickled the edge of his senses. 

“I didn’t think something could feel so, well, _evil_ ,” he said, keeping the flashlight steady so Tim could work. 

“There are many different kinds of evils in this world, Dick,” Tim replied, keeping the lining of the stomach between his hands and the rotten smelling egg. “Luckily, this one is easy enough to be rid of.” 

Dick held up the gallon jug full of holy water that they’d stopped to get blessed on the way here. The priest hadn’t appreciated being woken up, but a detective’s badge and a donation to the church’s coffers went a long way to smooth ruffled feathers. “Let’s just hope this works.” 

“It will. That priest holds true to his faith. Now fill it up.” Tim held open the rip in the stomach he’d torn after clamping off each end. 

“A bath in holy water. Who’d have thought?” Dick did as he was told and poured, adding his own _Hail Mary_ to it for good measure. 

The egg started smoking and there was an ever so faint scream of pain as the holy water acted like acid and dissolved the rubbery shell and ate away at the baby demon inside. It didn’t take long before everything was a putrid black mess of gloop. 

“Now what do we do?” Dick asked, trying to hide the shake in his hand as the light wavered from side to side. This had been more unsettling than he’d thought, going completely against his instincts to protect the weak and helpless. 

“Now you go home and try to get some sleep,” Tim replied. “Just hand me that hazmat container first. I need to take this to Bruce.” 

“What’s he going to do with it?” 

“Have Jason give final rites. This little soul didn’t deserve to be twisted into something so foul. If anyone can make sure there’s a chance of salvation, it’s Jason.” 

That settled Dick’s frayed nerves immensely. “Okay. And the body?” He nodded down towards Jane Doe. 

“She can stay here. There’s nothing more to be done.” 

Dick made a mental note to have that priest come by when the autopsy was done to do a proper blessing. “Alright. Well, I’m glad I called you tonight.” 

Tim nodded in agreement. “Me too. You really owe me a date night now.” 

“How about after we track down who knocked up and killed this poor woman?” Dick’s mind shied away from the logistics of how the former happened. He didn’t need to know. Really. 

“I love you, Dick, I really do, but you’re not equipped to go demon hunting.” Tim leaned across the table and kissed him gently. “But if you want to learn a new skill set, I’m sure Damian would be glad to have you along.” 

“Pass.”


	66. Pirate Booty (JayTim)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand I finally bumped the rating up. It was bound to happen eventually.

Jason glided through the crowded ballroom, feeling safe and secure from recognition in his costume and elaborate carnival mask. This kind of event, while ridiculous in a city like Gotham, were perfect for someone like himself who just wanted to watch the elite of Gotham’s high society look like complete asses in their feathers and sequins and spandex. He’s seen his fair share of bad costumes (Discowing came instantly to mind), but these are people who paid others to come up with this shit. 

He sipped at his champagne and smirked, feeling very pleased with himself. No one in his ridiculous family knew he was even here. There was no reason for anyone to think that the Red Hood, notorious crime lord and a pain in Bruce’s left nut, was right here in their midst. 

After casually circling the ballroom a second time, Jason planted himself against a wall to take a breather. More than one woman, as well as a few men, thought that his ass was apparently for sale tonight if the number of random touches and occasional pinch meant anything. He was starting to regret wearing such tight pants, but hey, he was a pirate. At least the hat and his mask looked cool, as well as the boots. Those may actually be his favorite part of the entire ensemble. 

Sipping some more champagne, Jason scanned the crowd again, his gaze tracking idly over the different people and their costumes before coming to a stop on a particular person. This was someone he hadn’t seen before. The massive red plume tucked into the black cowboy hat was certainly eye catching, as was the gold star pinned to the man’s chest. His mask hid his features perfectly, but it was his mouth that Jason’s eyes finally settled on. Full lips with just a hint of a pout. Lips that would look gorgeous wrapped around his cock. 

Jason choked when he realized who he was fantasizing over. 

It was the Pretender. 

What the fuck was wrong with him? This was his replacement, the one he’s tried to kill on a few different occasions. Of course, he’s also the one that he has the oddest fascination with and when his head got screwed back on mostly straight, he apologized so he could surreptitiously learn more about him as a person rather than an old file. That was all well and good, but when did he start finding Tim attractive? 

Since tonight apparently because wow, those lips are holding his attention like nothing else. 

Well, no risk, no reward. Jason took a final swig of the champagne and set the empty flute aside. Time to put it all on the line. 

Approaching Tim was no easy matter. The young man was surrounded by peacocks who preened under even a passing glance from the costumed sheriff in the black leather vest. Jason strategized and abandoned his initial plan of just walking right up to him. He needed a new idea. Music began to play, and couples made their way out to the dance floor to strut their stuff. 

Perfect. 

Jason barged his way into Tim’s circle and swept off his hat, making an elaborate bow. “I believe this was our dance, good sir?” 

Shocked titters arose from the people around them, but Tim must have been desperate for escape. “Why yes, I believe it is.” 

He accepted Jason’s hand and together, they made their way out into the swirl of dancers fluttering about. 

Jason settled his hand on Tim’s hip and took his hand, leading him into what he thought was a waltz. It didn’t take long for him to trip over Tim’s toes. 

“Not a good dancer, I take it?” Tim didn’t seem to be judging, just making a comment. 

“It’s been awhile,” Jason admitted, trying to keep his voice lower than normal. “Honestly, I just thought you needed an escape. Didn’t think much further than that.” 

Tim smiled one of those small secretive smiles of his, the one that usually made Jason want to punch him. The effect on him was different this time. It was probably the atmosphere, what with the low lights, the music, and general ambiance. This little smile seemed to promise something more than a scathing remark. “I’ll give you an A for effort. But in the interest of saving my toes, how about I lead?” 

“Works for me.” 

They repositioned their arms and Tim swept them away with all the skill and grace of a man who has had years of practice. Jason was surprised to find he was enjoying himself. Society events had never been a favorite of his and getting him to attend one when he was younger took an act of Alfred and God. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you at an event like this.” Tim’s comment came out of left field, forcing Jason back to the present. 

“It’s a masquerade ball,” Jason replied with a saucy smirk. “You’re not supposed to know who I am until midnight when the masks come off.” 

“But it’s my job to know who everyone is,” Tim teased right back. “I’m a sheriff, after all.” 

“Is that so? Well, I’m a pirate. What are you gonna do about that?” Holy crap, did those words just come out of his mouth? 

“I suppose I’ll have to search you.” There was no mistaking the intent behind those words. What the hell was the Pretender up to? He couldn’t know who he was, not yet. But Tim was a trained detective, second only to Bruce. Was this how he always behaved at this kind of event? Or did he just want to take Jason to a private place and rip him a new one for coming here? 

Only one way to find out. “Is that so, sheriff? What if I resist arrest?” 

“Then I’ll have to break out the handcuffs.” 

Jason grinned. It just figured that quiet little Timmy was into the kinky shit. “Lead the way, sheriff.” 

It didn’t take long for Tim to lead him to a private room, one Jason remembered as a sitting room that overlooked the back garden. As soon as the door shut behind them, hats went flying as their lips met and hands started roaming each other’s body. Jason wasn’t sure what the hell to think except wow, Tim wasn’t anything like what he expected. Wild and eager, but with the same level of control that was always present in Red Robin. 

Jason wanted to take that control and toss it out the window. Tim didn’t let him and shoved him back into one of the cushioned chairs. “I think we need a strip search, pirate,” he said, kneeling between Jason’s thighs and running gloved hands over the snug fabric. 

“There’s only one thing you’re gonna find in these pants,” Jason replied, biting back a groan as Tim’s hand ran over his half hard length. 

“I’m pretty sure I just found it.” 

It blew Jason’s mind that this was the same Tim, the same Pretender, the one he’d always made fun of for being prissy and uptight. The level of skill and attention being paid to his body, bringing him higher and higher with such speed was not an ability someone lacking in experience could accomplish. 

In the end, Jason collapsed back into the chair, chest heaving and seeing stars as Tim rose to his feet. “I have to admit, I’m kind of disappointed that I didn’t get to use my handcuffs.” 

Jason lazily raised his arms towards Tim. “Lock me up, babe. If this is the kind of punishment I get for breaking the law, sign me the fuck up.” 

“If only that worked so well on you in real life.” 

Shit. Jason cracked open an eye to see that Tim looked more amused than anything else. “Do I even want to know how long it took you to figure out it was me?” 

Tim smirked down at him and Jason couldn’t help but twitch under sheer badassery that look always entailed. “I knew as soon as I saw those thighs. Really, if you wanted to disguise yourself better, something less formfitting is the way to go, Jason.” 

“You knew it was me the whole time. And yet, here we are.” Jason waved his hand, gesturing to the obviously suggestive position they were in. He hadn’t even tucked himself back into his pants yet and Tim’s erection was still rather prominent in his. 

“Yes, here we are,” Tim agreed and stepped forward, back into the cage of Jason’s thighs. “We need to talk, but first, I believe you owe me something, pirate.” 

Jason grinned, glad that he wasn’t going to get yelled at for allowing this little game to go too far. Then again, it could safely be said that Tim finished it. Whatever the hell was going on, they’d get around to figuring out. Eventually. 

He started unbuckling Tim’s belt. “Why yes, sheriff, I believe I do.”


	67. Grappling Exercises (JayTim)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part of my 500 Followers prompts.
> 
> from: foxesrefuge
> 
> So here comes my prompt: JayTim sparring session!! w lots and lots of body contact and sexual tension between them and a somewhat shy/ embarrassed Tim bc he has a crush on Jason, always trying to play it off, tho... and Jason.. well, he is a very teasing little shit (as he always is) and finds out about Tim’s attraction while sparring lol (idk maybe not, the end is up to u. It can have a happy end, can also end w a cliffhanger haha well it’s really up to u!!)

After the fourth time Jason pinned Tim to the mats using nothing but his thighs to hold him down, Tim finally keyed in to the fact that he was up to something. That asshole was messing with him. Not that he was complaining at all, because being trapped between those thighs has been a fantasy of his for far too long, but never once has a word about that passed his lips. 

Well, there was that one time when Tim was drunk, and he was fairly sure he may have said something to Kon, but no one else was around to hear him wax poetic over Jason’s thighs and his stupidly handsome face and how he wanted to lick every inch of him. 

Kon wouldn’t betray him like this. He wouldn’t. That went against the very tenants of the bro-code. 

But this? Jason had his long legs wrapped around his torso and his head was cradled in between two gloriously muscled thighs. If Tim was facing the other direction, he’d be face to face with Jason’s crotch. He wanted to whine over how close he was to a dream come true. Instead, he closed his eyes and concentrated on his breathing, trying to will away the budding interest in his own shorts that would shortly betray him if he wasn’t careful. 

“You still alive down there?” Jason asked, a teasing lilt to his deep voice. “Or are you relearning how to breathe?” 

Tim rolled his eyes and slapped the mat. “I yield. Now let me up, you overgrown ox.” This was a strategic retreat. Really. 

Jason gave him an extra squeeze and released him, rolling to the side to give Tim a chance to reorient himself. 

Goddammit, that had been close. Tim sucked in another deep breath and stood up, assuming a new defensive stance while he waited for Jason to attack. 

“Again?” Jason asked, shaking his head incredulously. “Glutton for punishment today, aren’t ya?” 

“How else am I supposed to learn this new move if I don’t practice it?” 

“Seems to me all you’re doing is getting acquainted with the floor, but whatever. It’s your funeral.” Jason smirked at his bad joke and rushed forward, planting one powerful leg on the mat and using the momentum to pivot and snap his other leg around to complete the kick. 

Tim ducked under it and rolled just in time to miss the follow through with the other leg. For someone so huge, Jason was surprisingly quick and flexible. The fight was on in earnest again, blow meeting blow as they grappled their way across the mats. Neither gave quarter and Tim held his own against Jason longer than the other man probably expected. This was one of those times where his shorter build came in handy because he was better able to center and ground himself against the bigger powerhouse. 

In the end, it was the very obvious grope against the cheeks of his ass that had Tim losing his focus. He floundered, gaping at his sparring partner, and found himself landing face first into the mat, once again with Jason’s heavy body pinning him down. 

“What? What was that?” Tim gasped out, slapping the mat to signal his yield. The touch had been so unexpected and so out of character that it was small wonder he’d lost his concentration. 

Jason didn’t move. If anything, he readjusted himself and settled more comfortably into the planes of Tim’s body. 

Tim felt the heat rushing to his face as he realized just what was now nestled against the curve of his bottom, something that was growing harder the longer it stayed there. 

“Are we done playing this little game, Pretender? Don’t try and lie to me. You’ve been fighting a boner since we walked onto this mat.” 

At the moment, Tim was thanking his lucky stars that they were at his place rather than the Batcave. Then again, this was probably why Jason was doing it since he knew how much privacy meant to him. Here in Tim’s own workout room, it was just the two of them. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tim tried, but Jason rocked his hips, the slide of his hardening length pressing even more firmly against him. 

There was no mistaking the trembling moan that escaped Tim’s mouth for anything other than what it was. Need. Need for the man who was now chuckling darkly into Tim’s ear and making his insides churn and twist with desire. 

“Try again, Tim. Tell me you’re not hard a rock right now.” 

That would be a complete and utter lie. Tim was sure he’d never been this hard in all his life. “I…I…” He couldn’t get the words out as Jason teasingly thrusted against him a second time. 

“Tell me what you want, Timmers. In case you hadn’t noticed, there’s very little I’m gonna say no to at the moment.” 

Holy crap. Lights exploded behind Tim’s eyes as his big brain finally made the connection that had been eluding him. Jason wanted him. Maybe not as much as he wanted him, but still. Tim grinned into the mat and purposefully arched his back, rubbing the smooth fabric of his gym shorts against the now solid cock behind him. 

“I want you to fuck me, Jason. Right here, right now.” 

Jason ran his tongue over the outside of Tim’s ear, sending a shiver down his spine. “Now was that so hard to admit?” he growled in a low voice, his hands tugging at their clothes. 

“Yes,” Tim bit back and ground harder against Jason. “But what I really want to know is how you knew in the first place.” 

Calloused hands ran up the back of Tim’s bare thighs, tickling the skin and brushing under the hem to explore higher. “A big bird of the Super variety. I don’t know how he knew I was interested in ya, but he said he was 100% certain you were too.” 

Kon was a dead man. Hours will be spent plotting his demise, but right now, thinking was overrated because those were Jason’s hands guiding Tim up onto his knees and peeling off his shorts and underwear. Those were _Jason’s_ _fingers_ gripping the round globes of his ass and spreading them apart. That was _Jason’s_ _breath_ growing warmer and warmer against his skin as he leaned in. 

Tim keened as he felt Jason’s mouth close around him, thoughts scattering to the four corners of the globe. Sex first, revenge plots later. 


	68. Fantasy Prompt: Found an injured dragon and nursed it back to health, despite it trying to bite your face off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can be read as an AU of my now epic fantasy AU _The Adventures of Sir Timothy Drake_

Sir Timothy pulled his cloak closer about his already soaked body and cursed vehemently under his breath for the umpteenth time in the last candlemark. The last few days were simply cursed, he decided. First there was the failed mission to Gotham to secure that trade agreement his parents wanted (Lord Bruce drove a hard bargain and while he and Tim got on well, they both knew the terms his parents stated were shit). Second was his party getting ambushed as soon as they left Gotham’s borders. He’d only escaped because some dunderhead shot his horse in the ass with an arrow that made him bolt. No sooner had he finally gotten him under control, when he bolted again, this time in terror at some godawful roar that permeated the woods. 

This time though, the horse left Tim in his wake, leaving him naught but his staff and the saddlebags he’d removed while inspecting his horse’s injury. 

And then it started to rain. Two days now of non-stop rain in all its forms. Oh, and he was lost. He couldn’t forget that. 

Tim was really hoping to find a cave to sleep in tonight. The thought of someplace dry where there was the chance of lighting a fire that would last more than half a candlemark was enticing. He snorted at the thought. Might as well wish for that crackling fire to be in a fireplace, with some mulled wine, and a book in hand. Oh, and his husband rubbing his feet. Jason’s fingers were _magic_ after a long day. 

The light sound of rain falling was interrupted by the loud roar again. Tim no longer jumped or even started at it, so used had he become to the periodic noise. It didn’t stop him from wondering what it was, even though it was getting louder the further he walked. He tugged again at his thick traveling cloak, trying to keep the hood up so he could see, but the heavy fabric was completely waterlogged, so it just fell with a sodden splat against his skull. 

Why did he even bother?

The ground beneath his feet started to become uneven, with jagged edges of rock piercing the soaked loam. Tim kept his eyes peeled, hoping for something that would finally let him get out of this wretched rain. Another half mile passed beneath his feet and he finally spotted it, a massive rock formation rising out of the forest floor. He rushed forward eagerly but stopped in his tracks as the roar reverberated through the air, louder than it ever had been before. 

“What is my luck even?” Tim muttered under his breath. “Of course, it has to be coming from here. _Of course._ ” So much for finding a cave because who knew what he’d be sharing it with. 

The wind gusted and Tim shivered hard in the cold air. He sighed and glared at the pile of rock. No. Just no. He was done with the rain and whatever the hell happened to live here would just have to deal with him until he was dry. 

~*~*~ 

The fire wasn’t anywhere near as large as he’d like and it was smoky to boot with the damp wood, but it cast a meager amount of heat and right now, that’s all Tim could reasonably ask for. He’d found the entrance to a small cave about a dozen feet up from the ground and while the climb didn’t give him any issues, dragging wood for his fire did. Still, it was _dry_ and the only damp came from the entrance where the wind would whip the rain in. 

He munched on a soggy loaf of travel bread (the damp made it easier to chew at least) and some of the mint leaves he’d found earlier. Tim was in no danger of starving, not with all his herb lore, but he couldn’t help but wish he’d been able to spend another season with the ranger Cassandra learning survival skills in the forest. Perhaps he’d have been able to forge some type of shelter instead of wander insipidly through the woods like some lost lordling. 

The wind shifted again and blew into the cave, causing Tim’s eyes to water as he got a face full of wood smoke. He sneezed twice before it dissipated. “Damn wind,” he swore. 

A moment later, the loud roar echoed in the early evening air. There would be no sleeping with that occurring periodically, but now that Tim wasn’t completely focused on his own misery, he couldn’t help but think it sounded like a massively loud sneeze. 

What sort of creature sneezed like that? 

He knew he shouldn’t try and find out, he really did, but once the thought took root, he couldn’t shake it. Curiosity was a failing of his and he soon found himself fashioning a torch. 

The back of his cave ran deep into the rock, narrow in some places, wider in others. It was much drier back here and Tim caught the faint hint of air moving, so he resolved when his little quest was over to move his fire further back as he wouldn’t choke on the smoke. The air grew warmer as he walked, which he found curious as this wasn’t one of those places where the innards of the earth broke the surface. Back home, he had a knife fashioned from the glass-like black rock that he used in his workroom. 

He wasn’t opposed to a little warmth right now. Not in the slightest. 

The air shook with another loud roar and Tim became absolutely positive it was a sneeze. He also became certain about something else too when he took the final curve in the rock and raised his torch high in the large cavernous room he found himself in.

Tim was a dead man because he’d just walked into a dragon’s lair.

Or, perhaps not when his meager light flashed on black scales tipped with red. He raised the makeshift torch higher. “Jason?” he queried.

The dragon grumbled and one large luminous blue eye opened. He sniffed, but otherwise ignored his human husband. 

“Are you sick?” Tim asked, boldly walking into the cavern. “Your sneezes are ridiculous.” 

“So’s your face,” Jason huffed but the retort was weak with his labored breathing. Tim wasn’t sure how he missed it before. 

“I didn’t even know dragons _could_ get sick,” he commented as he approached his husband. “I suppose asking if you have a fever is rather redundant.” 

The blue eye trained on him narrowed, but otherwise, Jason remained silent. 

“Why are you even here? This isn’t your cave.” Tim raised the torch to get a better look around. It wasn’t the cave he’d seen once before, right after he’d agreed to the hair-brained proposal that changed his life forever. For the better. 

Jason harrumphed loudly before he finally spoke. “I wanted to surprise you on your way home from Gotham. You were gone for so long.” 

Tim grinned and patted the side of Jason’s face. His husband was such a softy under that brash and loud exterior of his. “That was sweet of you. Just so you know, your sneezes scared the crap out of my horse and I’ve been wandering through the woods for the better part of two days now. In the rain.” 

“I may have eaten the horse. I was hungry, and it was injured.” 

It wouldn’t be the first time Tim had lost a fine piece of horseflesh to the dragon. “You couldn’t scent me on her?” 

The dragon pointedly sniffed. “Does it look like I can scent properly right now?” 

“No, it looks like you should be home in bed.” 

Jason grumbled and closed his eyes. “I can’t keep my human form while I’m like this,” he admitted after a long moment. 

The statement made Tim’s grin grow even more, so it was a good thing his husband couldn’t see it. “That’s a shame. I saw some feverfew outside, and I’ve got some willow bark in my saddlebag. I can’t even begin to imagine the size kettle I’d need to steep some tea for you in this form.” 

If Jason could flip him off in this form, he’d surely be doing it if the glare he shot at Tim was any indication. “Just let me sleep,” the dragon mumbled and turned his head away. The harsh intake of air was all the warning Tim got and he quickly raised his hands to cover his ears as Jason sneezed again, the sound of it thundering through the cavern. 

Tim felt dazed afterward, but it didn’t stop him from running a hand over Jason’s heated skin. “If you don’t mind, I think I’m going to get some rest too, but in another part of the cave. I’m pretty sure I’ll go deaf if I stay here for too long.” 

“It helps, just knowing you’re close by, my treasure.” 

“I wish there was something more I could do for you, beloved.” Tim rose up on his toes to kiss Jason’s leathery cheek. 

“When I can shift again, I can think of a few things you could do to make it up to me.” 

It didn’t surprise Tim in the slightest that Jason’s mind went in this particular direction. He was an extremely tactile being around those he cared for, rather like Sir Richard in a way, but more focused and intent on him. His treasure. His mate. 

Tim kissed Jason again, lingeringly. “As you wish.”


	69. Clueless (JayTim)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part of my 500 Followers prompts from themandylion who requested JayTim and amnesia. I ended up writing two but the other ended up being more Dick-centric.

Tim wasn’t sure what was happening and the masked man standing next to him clearly didn’t either. They both coughed, trying to clear their lungs of whatever had irritated them so much. It burned, he knew that much, and there was a residual taste in his mouth that reminded him of...  
  
Of...  
  
What did it remind him of?  
  
Coughing hard, Tim finally managed to spit a thick wad of phlegm out of his mouth and send it flying to the ground. Immediately, his breathing eased and he leaned back against the wall, taking shallower breaths as his heart slowed down.  
  
The other man took notice and made a disgusting hocking noise before spitting as well. “Christ on a fucking crutch, that shit’s nasty,” he swore, his voice rough and gravelly from all the coughing.  
  
Tim nodded in agreement. “I don’t know what it is, but I think I’ll avoid it going forward.”  
  
“Yeah, same.” The man looked around and frowned. “So, uh...I’ve no clue who you are and no idea where we are. You?”  
  
“Same,” Tim replied after a moment. “Why are you wearing a mask?” It seemed like an important question to ask. Why it was important, he wasn’t sure.  
  
The man touched his face, apparently just now noticing the red mask over his eyes. “Huh. I have no idea. You’re wearing one too.”  
  
“I am?” Tim raised his hands and stopped when he saw the heavy gloves he was wearing. “What is all this?” he muttered, trying to take a closer look at the odd clothing. There was a cape, and knee high boots, and some kind of crisscrossing belt over his chest that had all kinds of little compartments built into it.  
  
“I feel like I should be making a joke about something but I don’t know what,” the other man replied. He sounded as confused as Tim felt. “Listen, I...I can’t remember much besides my name. No clue how I got here. And I have no fucking clue why I have two guns strapped to my legs.”  
  
Tim’s attention was drawn to the weapons in question. And the legs. They were very nice legs. “Me neither.”  
  
He knew he was supposed to know though. That fact was screaming at him, yelling and shouting that something vital to his very well-being was just...gone.  
  
Instead of focusing on the rising panic, Tim started casting about, trying to find some clues to answer the all important questions of who, what, where, and how. They were in a large room full of metal objects. The exact word for them escaped him at the moment but some half forgotten memory supplied an image of opening one with the man beside him.  
  
“I’m Jason,” the man announced abruptly. “I think.”  
  
“And I’m Tim,” Tim replied, still looking around. “I think we have some massive gaps in our memories.”  
  
“Ya think?”  
  
“Do you remember what these are?” He gestured to the metal boxes.  
  
It was vaguely reassuring to recognize that Jason’s silence meant he was concentrating and Tim wasn’t just being ignored. That had to mean they knew each other.  
  
Right?  
  
“I think we opened one,” Jason eventually said. But then he clenched his hands into fists and Tim took a wary step back, some instinct or forgotten memory reminding him of this man’s temper. “This fucking sucks. I can’t remember shit and it’s really starting to piss me off.”  
  
“Getting upset isn’t going to do us any good.” It came out testier than Tim planned and he braced himself in anticipation of a blow that never came.  
  
Cracking open an eye, he saw that Jason still had his fists clenched but that he hadn’t moved an inch. There was a sad look on his face. “We know each other, don’t we?” he asked slowly. “I...I feel like we do, but it’s not...not in a good way.”  
  
That felt about right according to Tim’s gut. “I think you’re right. But even with that between us, we’re all we’ve got right now, so let’s put that aside. We have to work together to figure this out.”  
  
Jason’s fists unclenched as he visibly relaxed. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right. Any suggestions about what we should do first? Opening that thing again seems like a dumbass idea since whatever is in there probably did this to us in the first place.”  
  
The wave of relief that washed over Tim startled him with its intensity. He stored that feeling away to be explored later. There was work to be done and memories to be restored.  
  
Perhaps when those came back, Tim could figure out why he had the urge to climb Jason like a tree even though they didn’t like each other.


	70. A Tango Kind of Guy (Batfam with background JayTim)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first amnesia fic attempt of mine. Could be read as occurring a few hours after the previous chapter.

Dick held his hand over his mouth, trying very hard not to laugh. The situation, while serious, was just too completely and utterly ridiculous.   
  
Damian apparently agreed even if he didn’t see the point in hiding his obvious pleasure in watching the train wreck going on in front of them. “Richard, please tell me this isn’t happening.” 

“I wish I could, Dames. I wish I could.” Dick leaned back against the computer console and shook his head. Over in the med bay, Alfred and Bruce were still trying to wrangle two rather combative former Robins into the decontamination chamber. No one was entirely sure what had happened to them but he and Damian had found them wandering the streets together, dazed and confused and neither one quite willing to be separated from the other. 

They’d been on patrol together, that much was clear. Everything else…it was a work in progress.

Behind him, the computer chimed as Barbara opened a channel. “I have some good news and some bad news,” she announced. 

“Lay it on me.” Dick didn’t take his eyes off his younger brothers. 

“I cracked the security protocols on Jason’s helmet and accessed the video feed. He and Tim sprung what I think was an old trap of Dr. Crane’s. They got doused with some kind of gas.”

“I can understand how Timothy got gassed, but how on earth did Jason?” Damian asked, turning to gaze up at Barbara.

“Tim’s rebreather failed to work at all, so I suspect the filters in the hood did as well.”

Dick let out a low whistle. “Must be some pretty heavy duty stuff then, whatever it is.” 

“Agreed. I’ve already sent Steph and Cass out with hazmat gear to clean up the site. If I had to guess, I’d say it’s an airborne drug that has a short life span. You and Damian are feeling fine, right?”

“No more confused than usual,” Dick replied, which made Damian snort in amusement. 

“I too am fine,” the youngest boy added. 

The commotion in the medical bay finally quieted down and Bruce left Alfred to keep an eye on the two young men while he joined the others by the computer bank. He sat down heavily in his chair, the lines on his face more pronounced than usual. 

Dick gave him a moment to stew, knowing better than to prod right away. After the silence dragged on though, he spoke up. “Well? How are they?”

Bruce sighed, a clear sign the news wasn’t good. “Physically, they appear to be fine. Mentally…they don’t seem to remember much about anything at all.”

“It’s not as though they have that much brain capacity anyway,” Damian snipped, but Bruce held up his hand warningly, an indication he wasn’t in the mood for jokes. 

“Aside from some basic information about themselves, Jason and Tim don’t remember  _anything_.” This time, the emphasis was clear as day. 

Dick drew a deep breath and looked back towards the med bay. He could just make out the two forms huddled in the decontamination chamber, both stripped down to nothing as they were cleansed of any physical traces of the chemical compound. No wonder they’d been combative out on the streets earlier. They hadn’t recognized him or Damian. They didn’t even know who they were or what was going on. “They must be so frightened,” he said softly. 

Bruce nodded. “I’ve dealt with Jason before when he’s been hit with fear gas. He’s hard enough to contain and calm down as it is. But Tim? That boy ought to have been an escape artist.” 

“Muscle memory,” Damian commented with a faint hint of admiration.  

“And desperation,” Bruce added. “They may not remember much but one thing is very clear…they’re still looking out for and are protecting each other. Whatever this compound is, it hasn’t taken that away from them.” 

“Good to know,” Dick said approvingly. “Just keep them together then and you’ll have less of a headache.” He hauled himself upright and fixed his mask back onto his face. “I think I’m going to take a little trip to Arkham to visit the good doctor and see if I can’t find out some more about this little mixture. Unless you need me here?” 

Bruce was already shaking his head. “No, I have blood samples to analyze and an antidote to synthesize. Damian, I want you to stay here and assist me. With Tim out of commission, it’s high time you put those organic chemistry lessons to good use.” 

The boy preened at the opportunity to prove himself. “Gladly, Father.” 

Up on the monitor, Barbara was already typing swiftly, her attention having shifted to a different monitor of her own. “Dick, I’m in Arkham’s mainframe. Whenever you’re ready, I can have you waltz in through the front gate.” 

“Now where’s the fun in that?” Dick quipped as he patted Damian on the shoulder, then headed down towards the garage. “I’m much more of a tango kind of guy.” 


	71. Aww, Nuts (JayTim)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For GoAwayOlivia...always making me laugh with your candy apple obsession. :D
> 
> Can be read as a sequel to chapter 10 _In My Heart (In Your Pants)_.

Tim stands at the stove, carefully melting caramels with a little bit of water in a saucepan over low heat. He’s never done this before and isn’t feeling brave enough to attempt actual caramel but Alfred said this would work just fine for what he wants to do. When he called to ask, it was pretty clear to anyone who knows the old butler well that he was laughing at him, even if not a hint of it made its way over the line.   
  
Jason likes to joke that Alfred’s way of laughing is giving them the raised eyebrow whenever any of them say or do something stupid. Dick, especially, agrees.   
  
They’re still working on Damian, but he’s being stubborn about admitting that he ever does anything worthy of being laughed at and that the three plebeians that are his older brothers don’t count. 

Chuckling, Tim goes back to melting caramels and enjoying the sugary scent that now permeates the kitchen. He has a few hours still before Jason will be home and he wants to have most of this done before he does, if only to avoid comments about setting the stove on fire. 

Despite popular opinion, Tim can cook. And bake, somewhat. He just doesn’t like to if there’s someone else around who can and prefers to do it. Jason fits the bill perfectly, so Tim dutifully handles the cleanup. Not that Jason ever leaves much of a mess since he cleans as he goes, but it’s the thought that counts. 

There’s also the whole  _cooking_   _while_   _distracted_  thing. This is why Tim is generally banned from the kitchen and a strict  _no_   _electronics_  rule is in place when he isn’t. In compliance with this little rule, the recipe he’s following is printed out and all his notes are handwritten in a shorthand that makes sense to him.

On the counter behind him are all the ingredients he needs. The apples are bright green and have been carefully washed. He’s even polished them a bit with the towel because they’re so shiny and the whole aesthetic caught his eye enough before he started melting caramels to spark a quick photography session in which he set up a still life composition. Not exactly the most exciting of subjects, but to him, it means a lot since this is the first time he has been brave enough to try making caramel apples on his own. 

His one true weakness. 

Jason has joked that Tim will do anything for the sweet and crunchy treat after what he saw last year, and it’s a sad fact that there isn’t much he won’t say no to when there is a decadent candy apple on the line. 

Ra’s knows it too and has tried to bribe him with a box before. Thankfully, the ninja delivering them did so when Jason was present, otherwise Tim quite possibly would have ended up kidnapped and imprisoned in some elaborate cell, subject to the whims of the Demon’s Head. 

But that’s all in the past. Tim watches the thermometer and smiles when the contents of the pot reach the desired temperature. 

It’s time to dip. Tim puts his game face on and drives the candy sticks into his perfect green apples. He can do this. Really. 

~*~*~

The clock moves all too slowly. Tim glances at his watch again as he waits rather impatiently for the caramel coating to harden in the fridge. It’s almost time and he has the rest of his toppings ready. Melted chocolate, both white and semi-sweet, are ready to drizzle and he’s chopped peanuts as well. What he’s still undecided over is if he wants to heat some peanut butter and use that too. 

No sprinkles allowed. Dick will be sad but these aren’t for him. At all. 

They’re all his. 

Well, maybe Jason can have one. Half of one. While feeding him the other half on the sofa like that time last year where things got a little hot and heavy afterward. 

Fun times.  

Tim checks his watch again and practically lunges for the fridge now that it’s time to check the hopefully hardened coating. He’d been generous with his time and it has paid off as each apple is perfect and ready for the next stage. 

Now he just has to figure out how he wants each one to look. 

He’s on the last one when the front door opens. Jason is home early. Dammit.   
“Hey, babe, where are you? Something smells good.”

“I’m in the kitchen,” Tim calls out, slightly peeved that his quiet time has been interrupted. 

“Uh-oh, I take back what I said.” Jason pokes his head in and his eyes widen comically. “You’ve got to be fuckin’ kidding me.”

“I can follow a recipe, you know,” Tim bites out between gritted teeth. Almost done with this last one…

“Yeah, but I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve seen you in here by yourself and each of those times involves fire.”

“Does anything smell burned to you?” 

“Nope. Massive points there. I’m just surprised to see you actually making those things.”

Tim shrugs and carefully rolls the last apple in the chopped peanuts. He’d ended up heating some peanut butter after all, so this one is double peanut goodness. “I thought I’d give it a try.”

“What brought this on?” Jason enters the kitchen and stops on the other side of the island where Tim has everything laid out. 

“It’s September.”

Jason smirks and tries not to laugh. “Hate to break it to you, but fall doesn’t start for a few more weeks.”

“Party pooper.” Tim holds up the last apple proudly. “All done.”

“And you didn’t destroy anything. I’m so proud.” 

“I’m not completely hopeless, you know.” 

“Just mostly.” Jason leans over and Tim dutifully does the same to give him a kiss. “So, if I take care of the rest of your cleanup, does that mean I get one of those?”

It’s Tim’s turn to smirk. “You can have half of one.” 

Jason’s eyes narrow. “Do I even want to know what I’d have to do for a full one?” 

Tim waves the peanut-crusted apple around teasingly. “Let me get these back in the fridge to set and we can negotiate.” 

“I’m pretty sure I have a few chips to bargain with.” Jason winks and waggles his tongue at him.

“Always trying to get in my pants,” Tim jokes as he sets the apple down on the plate and opens the fridge. “Although, if these turn out even half as good as they look, I’d let me into my pants too.” 

 


	72. Be My Robin (Tim & Jason)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another Tumblr prompt, this one from exiled-one who asked for Future Batman Tim entering the Arkham universe where he saves Jason from the Joker.
> 
> This is a dark fic btw, so it may not be for everyone.

Tim knew as soon as the energy vortex stopped spinning that he was in the wrong place. The shadows concealed any obvious references, but he’d been to Arkham Asylum enough times over the years, both as Robin and Batman, to know this was not _his_ Arkham. 

Goddammit, where did he go wrong? The calculations for time travel were complex and if there was one thing left that he still loved, it was a puzzle. One that he thought he’d solved. 

An alternate dimension was not where he’d wanted to land. No, the whole purpose behind all of this was to void the future he came from. A future where Tim Drake became Batman after the world went to shit and the only heroes left to step up to the plate was him, Kon, and Cassie. The New Trinity was what the media dubbed them at first, but then harsh decisions and even harsher actions caused a new name to be whispered where no one thought they could hear. 

The Dark Trinity. 

It wasn’t supposed to be like that. No, they’d only wanted to save the world. But look what happened instead…an apocalyptic wasteland where few survived outside of the great cities he and his friends established. 

Tim knew deep down that he had to change this. That to do so, he would have to give up everything he’d ever worked for. Because, in the end, that’s what a hero was supposed to do. Sacrifice themselves for the greater good. It didn’t take him long to figure out the event that started them all on this path. How could it, when it impacted everything Batman did going forward? 

Months were spent pouring over the old records, Bruce’s files meticulous as always about dates and locations. Eventually, Tim felt he was ready. He didn’t say a word about what he planned to Cassie and Kon. They would try to talk him out of it, saying that they can’t change the past. His friends would even try to stop him, which would cause much pain to them because Tim knew exactly how to take them down if and when he needed to. 

In a way, it was sad how much they’d all changed from their young and idealistic selves. 

Oh well. This would fix everything. 

Or it was supposed to… 

Tim clenched his fists and glared, listening to the pregnant silence around him. Something was here, lingering. Arkham had always been the kind of place horror movies dreamed of, but this… 

A scream ripped through the air, piercingly loud before it was cut off abruptly. 

Then came the laughter. Low and insidious, slowly growing louder as it echoed through the dank therapy room Tim had found himself in. 

_HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA_

It was a laugh anyone who’d grown up in Gotham would recognize, sending a chill down the spine of even the most hardened of souls, signaling madness and depravities of the worst kind. A laugh that made Tim wrap a hand around his gun and draw it out. 

Perhaps he was in the right place after all.

A Robin was a Robin, no matter where they were. This may not be his world, but saving Jason Todd was still his mission. 

Tim crept out of the room, hugging the wall and clinging to shadows. Sounds bounced around in the narrow space, but he soon made his way down a flight of stairs and into the main hall of the old asylum. The laughter stopped, and Tim listened intently, but to no avail. 

His gut told him to keep going down and so he did, deep into the bowels of Arkham where the light of day never reached. 

Lurid fluorescent lights periodically lit the path before him, illuminating empty cells on one side of the hall. In his world, this was where the worst of the worst were kept. The true criminally insane. Zsazz, Two-Face, Professor Pyg. 

And the Joker. 

Tim paused for a moment outside one of the cells, reflecting on the last tenant he remembered ushering inside. 

Dick Grayson. 

It had to be done. He could rattle off the list of reasons why he’d had Dick locked away and even firmly believed in most of them still. But it had hurt worse than anything else he’d done, including putting Damian out of his misery and burning the body so Ra’s couldn’t try and bring him back. 

Desperate times called for harsh decisions. 

He kept going, shoving away the memories of the past to focus on his current mission. The quiet bore down on him and Tim couldn’t help but wonder if Jason was dead already. If he’d been too late. 

Well, even if he was, he could still kill the Joker. Any world where the Joker wasn’t alive was better off than a world where he was. 

A door blocked the hall, one that Tim didn’t remember from his world. Everything else about this place was a spot on match, so he crept forward cautiously, keeping an eye out for an alarm or a trap. 

The sickening laughter started up again and this time, Tim could hear the sound of something solid hitting flesh along with it, as well as cries and whimpers of pain. 

Jason had mentioned crowbars once to Tim when they were both far gone from too much booze. _I swear, I see red anytime I find someone using a crowbar or a pipe on another person. The next thing I know, they’re the ones with half their ribs broken and choking on blood._  

They’d fucked after that, with Jason choking Tim until he almost passed out. He’d never come so hard in his life and afterwards, Jason called him a kinky a little freak with a disgusted sneer on his face. Not that it stopped them from doing it again. 

And again. And again. 

But that Jason was dead now too, killed by Tim’s own hand. 

All the blood. His hands were stained by how much blood he’d shed, all in the name of true justice. 

Tim spotted the trap moments before he stepped into it. Rearing back, he drew a batarang and sent it flying, cutting power to the electrified floor. It seemed too simple but he was running out of time. 

This world’s Jason was still alive. 

Rushing forward, Tim deftly shot the lock off the door and kicked it open, sending it flying back against the wall. There was a hiss as gas was released into the hall, a fan blowing to spread it faster, but he was already past it, his cape raised to protect the lower part of his face. 

The Joker stopped in mid swing and grinned widely. “Well, well, well, look who finally decided to show up. It’s been what? A month? Two? I’ve lost track of how much fun I’ve been having with your little bird.” 

Two months? Jason had been a captive of the Joker for two months? Tim raised his gun, not wanting to waste any time. As much as he’d have liked to draw this out, this was the Joker. It had to be quick or else he’d find some way to escape. 

The Joker hissed in surprise. “A gun? You’re not Batman, you’re a fake. An imposter. A --,” 

He didn’t have a chance to say what else he thought Tim was because there was now a bullet hole right in the middle of his forehead. Insane eyes rolled back in his head and the Joker slumped to the floor, his crowbar falling with a loud _clank_ as it joined him on the ground. 

Behind him, Tim could now see Jason’s prone form. Memories of a man and an even younger boy tried to superimpose themselves over the teenager laying there, bits and pieces of a Robin uniform still lining his broken body. 

Tim stalked forward, kicking the Joker viciously to the side. Jason’s eyes were barely open, watching him from behind new bruises, his face a mess of dirt and blood, even if the rest of his body was strangely clean, aside from the new welts and bruises decorating his torso. 

He didn’t want to think of what else the Joker may have done to him. He’d never had a predilection for being a sexual predator before, but there was a first time for everything. 

“You…You’re not _him_ ,” a raspy whisper emerged from Jason’s throat. 

“No, I’m not,” Tim agreed. “I’m from another time, another place.” 

“Why?” 

“Because even in my world, Bruce failed to save you. It changed everything.” Tim holstered his gun and knelt beside Jason to untie the ropes binding his wrists and ankles together. “How long have you been here?” 

“Don’t…know…Bruce…he never came.” Jason’s eyes welled with tears and it tugged at Tim’s heart in a way he hadn’t thought something ever could again. “He never came. You did.” 

Tim pushed back his cowl so Jason could see his face. “I wish I could say I did it on purpose, but I arrived here trying to get back to my past so I could save you and change my future. Still, a Robin is a Robin and we got to stick together.” 

Jason looked a little confused but smiled brokenly anyway. “Robins stick together?” 

“Always.” Tim tugged off his gloves and started assessing Jason’s torso. There were scars everywhere, old, new, and somewhere in between. This boy had been tortured for quite some time. He had a feeling if he got him under an x-ray, he’d find that his ribs were only half healed from the last beating. And that was probably the least of their worries.   

Something caught Tim’s eye and he looked beyond Jason to a fireplace built into the wall, coals still glowing hotly. Resting on the edge of the coals was a long poker. 

Jason caught sight of what had caught Tim’s attention and shuddered. “He said he was gonna use that. Said he would…mark me as his.” 

Tim rose to his feet and stepped over Jason. Picking up the long rod of metal, he discovered it wasn’t a poker at all. 

It was a branding iron with a little _J_ at the end. 

He dropped it with a loud clatter and spun around. “We’re getting you out of here. Now. I’m sure Bruce will be glad to…” Tim trailed off as Jason started shaking his head. 

“No. No, I can’t go back. I _failed._ I’m not good enough. I’m…” 

Tim laid a finger over Jason’s mouth, shushing him. “We are Robins _because_ we’re good enough. Even if we don’t believe it ourselves. Trust me when I say I’m speaking from experience here.” 

“I can’t go back,” Jason repeated, his voice growing weaker as the little strength he had failed him. “Take me with you. To your future.” 

Now it was Tim’s turn to shake his head. “My world is a bleak and barren wasteland; even I don’t want to return there.” 

But he had to if he wanted a chance to save this version of Jason who was clearly fading fast. Assuming he survived the trip, Tim had faith in the medical technology of his time being able to help him. 

It wasn’t as tough of a decision as he thought it would be. 

Tim put his gloves back on and carefully picked up Jason, cradling his smaller form in his arms. Then, he spoke the preprogrammed voice command he never thought he’d use to return to the future. “Be my Robin.” 

As the lights and energy spun around them, he thought he heard a faint reply. _“Yes.”_


	73. Meet the Parents (JayTim)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From Thotwing on Tumblr: Tim going to visit his birth parents grave and he asks if Jason would be willing to accompany him. " Hey mom, hey dad. This is Jason Todd... the love of my life. You guys always said you wanted to see me bring someone home one day." How would Jason handle this moment?

Jason has a thing about cemeteries. Call it a residual trauma from breaking out of his own coffin and clawing his way up through six feet of dirt. There are still some nights, less frequent now to be sure, where he wakes up in a cold sweat swearing he can still feel the earth beneath his fingers, taste it in his mouth, and muffling all possible sound around him.  

But then Tim rolls over and cuddles close beside him, somehow knowing even in his sleep that his partner needs him.  

It helps. 

Still, Jason doesn’t like cemeteries, even in the middle of a crisp fall afternoon that can’t be more perfect if it tried. But he completely understands why Tim wants to come here today. The new band on his ring finger feels foreign as they walk across the grass wearing their fine suits. The navy broadcloth always looks impeccable on Tim and Jason knows he doesn’t look half bad himself in the charcoal gray. Like Alfred would have let them look anything less than their best on their wedding day. 

Tim’s hand reaches out to take his. “Thank you for doing this with me,” he says quietly as they come to a stop before two neatly tended gravestones. Money was clearly no issue at the time of Janet Drake’s funeral; Jason can’t help but notice Jack Drake’s stone is much less ostentatious, although just as well maintained.  

They are a far cry from the simple markers for his own parents.  

“This is the closest we’re ever going to come to a meet the parents moment,” Jason replies, trying to deflect from the somberness of Tim’s mood. Blood ties are overrated as far as he's concerned. Those he considers his family are the ones he has chosen himself, not the ones genetics dictate belong to him. 

His _husband_  smiles softly and squeezes his hand. “I think Mom would have liked you. She loved a good, intelligent conversation, even if it ended in an argument.” 

“Gee, that sounds familiar.” Jason grunts as Tim’s elbow strikes his ribs. 

“Be nice.” Tim squares his shoulders and starts speaking to his parent’s graves. “Hey, Mom. Hey, Dad. This is Jason Todd…the love of my life and my new husband. You always said you wanted to see me to bring someone home one day, and I guess this is the closest we’re going to get to that. We had a rough time of it when we first met, but, well…” At this, he pauses and grins at Jason. “We got past it.” 

Jason smiles crookedly and keeps his hand firmly wrapped around Tim’s as he continues speaking. It's easier to focus on the physical connection between them right now than on memories of a knife against Tim’s slender throat or a batarang in his chest. A puffy white cloud crosses over the sun, casting a shadow over the cemetery and Jason swallows hard against the lump that forms in his throat. This isn’t the time or the place for him to fall into one of his funks. No, this is his fucking _wedding day_  and he refuses to let his shit ruin it for either of them. 

Beside him, Tim has stopped speaking, a content look on his face. It’s one Jason knows all too well, seeing it directed at him more often than not these days. “You okay?” he asks. 

“Yeah,” Jason says, shrugging uncomfortably. “It’s just…cemeteries.” 

Tim lets go of his hand and wraps an arm around Jason’s waist instead. “Which is why I appreciate you even doing this. Thank you.” 

Jason presses a kiss against Tim’s temple. “Well, just don’t expect me to do more than drive the car when you come back here for Mother’s Day.”  

Tim only came out here twice a year, on Mother’s Day and Father’s Day, with flowers for his parents. He has his own issues about birthdays and family holidays, ones that Jason can respect considering how often the Drakes were gone on their own business while Tim was growing up to be the little stalker he turned into. 

“No worries there,” Tim replies. “Now, I think we have a party to get back to.” 

The mood lightens even as the cloud moves away from the sun. Jason nudges Tim’s chin up so he can kiss him properly. He does it again for good measure because kissing Tim Drake is something he will never get tired of. “You said your mom would have liked me. What about your dad?” 

Tim laughs, his breath warm against Jason’s lips. “He’d have done what any dad would do.” 

“What’s that?”  

“Freak out when he discovered his kid was having sex behind his back.” 

“Oh, you mean like Bruce did?” Jason will never forget the pole-axed look on Bruce’s face the night he caught them screwing around on a roof.  

“Yes, exactly like that.” 

They share a secretive smile and, as they turn to head back to the car, Jason pauses. “One sec.” He glances back at the graves and speaks. “I may have fucked up royally in the beginning, but I really do love your son. We vowed to love, honor, and cherish, but also to protect each other today. I don’t plan to ever stop.” 

Jason nods respectfully and they walk away, leaving the shadow of death behind them as they look forward to their future.  

Together.


	74. Fantasy Prompt: The answer is always blood magic (JayKyle)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> greythunderkat asked:
> 
> Oh! More prompts?! How about blood magic is always the answer with jaykyle? (Sorry I seem to be on a jaykyle kick)

The man’s face flashed before Kyle’s eyes again and he groaned, trying to sketch faster to catch every detail before he disappeared. It had been like this for years, visions of a ruggedly handsomely face appearing and disappearing in his mind, lasting long enough to tease him, although haunt him would be a better term these days.

It was his own fault this was happening. Kyle wanted a muse and after one very drunken night with some friends that may have involved a Ouija board, the man started appearing. First in his dreams, then during his daydreams. Now he was everywhere, the slightest thing that reminded Kyle of him would trigger an image.

Smiling. Laughing. Scowling. Angry. Intense. Even one Kyle was willing to swear was the man’s expression during sex.

Pages and pages had been devoted to this face, to the chiseled body that he also caught glimpses of. Kyle had managed to channel his muse into a wildly popular webcomic, one that he now managed to earn enough from that he only had to do freelance graphics work when he wanted to. Financial security was a nice experience but Kyle wanted more.

He wanted his muse. His Jason.

“If only you were real, Jason,” he whispered, fingers tracing the inked lines of his most recent sketch. He’d spent an age working on the details of his eyes trying to capture their intensity. On his colored pages, they were a stunning shade of blue-green but Kyle was prouder of what he’d accomplished in black and white.

“I can be,” a faint voice whispered.

Kyle’s head jerked up from his drawing board, looking around his studio apartment wildly. It was dark, with the only light coming from his desk. The front door was securely locked and his windows were all closed. Not that those were ever opened because this was New York and pigeons were flying rats.

“Who’s there?” Kyle asked, rising cautiously and palming the pen knife he used for sharpening his pencils. There was something in the air, some instinct of his tingling in warning. He wasn’t alone. “Answer me, dammit.”

Silence.

Kyle cautiously prowled through his apartment, checking the bathroom, under his bed, and even the kitchen cabinets. The front door and the windows were all secure like he remembered. It was just him in here. He eventually sat down again, but stayed alert as he tried to get back to his sketch.

Outside, he heard the distant rumble of thunder.

“Fuck,” he swore. “Get a grip, Rayner.”

He glanced up just as lightning flashed, visible even through the window blinds.

A dark figure stood in front of his desk, there and gone in an instant.

Kyle reared back, his chair falling to the floor. “What the hell? Who are you?”

The hair on the back of his neck moved as some unseen hand brushed it aside. “You know who I am,” a deep voice whispered.

It was a voice that haunted Kyle’s dreams just as often as its owner’s face did. “Jason?” he asked, voice wavering as he tried to get himself under control. “No, this has to be a joke. You’re not real.”

What was wrong with him?

“You can make me real, Kyle.” The voice moved around to stand in front of him, even if Kyle couldn’t see anything. “Everything you’ve always wanted, I can make happen. Your friend. Your companion. Your _lover_.”  

Kyle’s knees went out and he crashed to the floor, gazing up into nothingness. What was going on? Was this real? Or was he dreaming that dream again, the one where Jason was real and lived with him. Loved him. He scrambled for his pen knife.  

There was only one way to find out. 

His most recent sketch of Jason, the one with the focus on his eyes, lay before him on the desk. Kyle stared at it as he raised the knife and dragged it across the palm of his left hand.  

He gasped from the pain and dropped the knife, blood welling up and dripping through his clenched hand. A drop landed on the paper. Then another.  

But it didn’t stain the page. Kyle gaped as each drop vanished, mixing with the ink. He didn’t even think and held his hand out over the paper, opening his still stinging hand.  

Blood dripped down his fingers only to be absorbed by the drawing.  

“Yes,” the voice hissed in pleasure. Kyle felt a weight settle on either side of his hips as someone pressed up close behind him. His head fell back as warm lips mouthed the side of his throat.  

“How is this happening?” he whispered as he gazed up at Jason.  

A strong hand closed over Kyle’s wounded one and drew it away from the page, bringing it up to Jason’s mouth. He lapped at the blood, licking every last drop, all while holding Kyle completely still with his other hand. There was the musculature he’d so painstakingly drawn now come to life. Flesh and sinew and bone, all wrapped up into one perfect package. 

“How?” Kyle asked again, wincing as sharp teeth grazed the deep cut. 

Jason placed a soothing kiss in the center of his palm. “Blood magic,” he said. “The answer is always blood magic.”   

Kyle’s heart raced at the implication of Jason’s words. He wasn’t completely stupid. “How much blood? And whose?”  

The man chuckled as he tipped Kyle’s head back some more. “Nothing so nefarious as what you’re thinking. You made me, Kyle. All I need is yours.” 

Jason’s lips brushed against his and Kyle melted into the embrace, the faint taste of his blood disturbing him less and less as time passed and the storm raged outside. It would be okay. He’d figure this out. But right now, Jason was real and he was in his arms where he’d always wanted to be.


	75. Fantasy Prompt: I turn into a lizard every full moon, no joke. (Jason & Tim & Steph)

Fighting back hoards of people wasn’t exactly an everyday thing for Jason, but it had happened before. Fighting back a hoard of actual, for real, zombies was definitely a first. 

“Where is my goddamned flamethrower when I need it?” he muttered, waving around a flashlight and trying to find something flammable. He needed a big boom. Or a big whoosh. There had to be a lawnmower in here. Cemeteries always needed lawnmowers. Lawnmowers meant gas. 

And gas was flammable. 

Pressed up against the door of the toolshed, Blondie peered out. “Ooh, now there’s an idea.” 

“No shit, Sherlock.” 

The blonde Batgirl stuck her tongue out at him. “Hey, Oracle,” she said into her comm. “Hood and I stuck in a shed at Potter’s Field and we’re trapped by zombies. Think we could get some backup that has some firepower?” 

Jason was hacked into the frequency for a change and he scowled as Barbara laughed. 

“Zombies? Are you for real?” 

“Yes, there’s motherfucking zombies after us and they’re not anywhere near as handsome as me,” he retorted. 

“Most are of the crumbling and falling apart variety,” Stephanie chimed in. “So, about that firepower?” 

“I’m on my way,” came Drake’s rather put upon voice. “ETA is five.” 

“Best ex-boyfriend ever.” Blondie grinned brightly. “I owe you a latte.” 

“You owe me a dozen lattes and I’ve yet to see a single one.” 

Jason frowned even more. Why was Babs sending his replacement here? They needed actual firepower, okay, _fire_ , to get rid of these guys. Whatever wannabe necromancer had fucked up their ritual was no joke. He had the distinct feeling he was missing something here and it pissed him off. 

The door started rattling as something heavy landed against it. Stephanie rose to her feet and braced herself. The lock was crap and they both knew it. “Wanna switch places, Hood? You’re bigger.” 

He laughed bitterly but did as she asked. “What you meant to say was that I’m already a zombie.”

“You are not,” Blondie protested as she resumed his hunt for gasoline. “If you were actually a zombie, you’d need blood to sustain you, plus I don’t see you rushing out for brains.” 

“How do you know I don’t eat them scrambled up in my eggs with some hot sauce every morning?” Jason felt more than heard something pushing against the door and he leaned back into it. 

“Eww.” 

“Breakfast of champions, right there.” 

“You’re such an asshole.” 

The thump from outside grew louder. Stephanie stopped searching to stand up on a workbench to peek out one of the windows placed just under the roofline. “Shit. Jason, there’s about forty of them out there.” 

Forty zombies. What the ever loving fuck was he doing here? 

“I’m almost there,” Drake said over the comm. “And I hate to break it to you, but that’s only a small group of them.” 

“What the shit?” Jason barely had time to say before he heard a loud _whoosh_ from outside and felt the unmistakable heat from a fire. The inside of the shed lit up and the scent of burning flesh permeated the air. 

“Woo-hoo!” Steph cheered, waving her arms wildly in excitement. “Go get ‘em, Timmers!” 

There was another loud _whoosh_ and this time, Jason shoved his way up onto the workbench to see what the hell was going on. 

The Pretender stood outside breathing actual fucking _fire_ as he mowed down the zombie hoard. 

“Holy shit.” Since when was this a thing that Tim Drake did? “How the hell did I not know that guy could breathe fire?” 

Blondie laughed at him. “It’s not like he tries to hide it.” 

“I tried to kill him twice and he never did that to me.” If he’d done it the first time, Jason was fairly certain he wouldn’t have tried to stab him in the chest the second time. 

Drake spun around, and a jet of flame erupted from his mouth, incinerating more zombies that hadn’t quite managed to shuffle away from the new threat. Okay, from the _actual_ threat because Jason was man enough to admit he and Stephanie wouldn’t have done dick unless they’d found something to light up. 

“Well, there’s a reason for that,” Stephanie said as she hopped back down to the floor. 

“Yeah? What’s that?” Jason asked as he followed after her.

Blondie’s grin grew absolutely devilish as she opened the door to the shed. “Well, you see…”

“Finish that sentence and I will light your hair on fire.” 

Jason jerked his head up to see Drake standing in the doorway. He charged up to his replacement. Face to face confrontations were much more his style. “What the hell? Since fucking when do you breathe fire?” 

Even under his mask, Jason could tell his replacement was rolling his eyes at him. “I turn into a lizard every full moon, no joke,” Drake stated in a dry voice. 

What? Jason took a step back, his gaze raking up and down Drake’s uniformed body. “You’re a werelizard?” 

Behind them, Blondie giggled while Drake smirked. “Seriously, Jason? A lizard?” 

It dawned on him what they were laughing about. The Pretender’s last name should have been his first clue. “You’re a weredragon.” 

The smirk morphed into a rather toothy grin and Jason took note of how much longer Drake’s fangs were from normal people. “Now you’re getting it.” 

Okay, well, Jason could accept being a bit slow on the uptake. It wasn’t every day he found out that the one person he no longer actively despised in his family was a goddamned _dragon_. “That still doesn’t answer my question about why you didn’t try to roast me when I tried to kill you.” 

Drake leaned forward and blew a puff of smoke into Jason’s face. “You’re smart. I’m sure you’ll figure it out eventually.”


	76. Fantasy Prompt: The answer is always blood magic (Tim & Damian)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is set in the same universe as _How to Summon Me on a Monday Morning_ , which is Chapter 36 of _Coffee House Rules_.

Damian scowls fiercely at Tim, his little face puckered up even worse than the time he was forced to admit Tim was right about something. That’s a good memory, but now is not the time for happy thoughts or pixie dust.

“You will undo this, Drake.” 

“I’m trying, Damian,” Tim replies just as crossly, flipping through his spellbook. “I know it’s hard to believe, but I’m not exactly thrilled about it either.” 

“This is all your fault.”

Tim slams the book shut and glares at the boy. “You’re the one who went through my spellbook in the first place. Try again.” 

For a brief moment, Damian has the grace to look shamefaced, his gaze dropping to the carefully sealed cardboard box at his feet. It’s hard to miss the protective symbols drawn on the lid and along each side of the box. There’s probably even symbols on the bottom. “I was trying to find something to help her.” 

This is why Tim can’t be righteously furious at the young animagus. Damian is so in tune with the needs of animals that the family swears he’s more empath than mage. Thank the gods he is still too young to shape-shift.

“I know and that’s the only reason why I haven’t turned you into a toad.” 

The now undead cat in the box lets out a ghastly hiss that manages to send chills down Tim’s spine. From the looks of it, Damian is spooked too. 

Good. 

Tim opens his book again and flips to the spell he’s fairly certain Damian tried on his own. It’s the only one that deals with raising the dead, although the spell on the next page is one he uses more often, which is banishing the magics used to raise the creatures. “Does this look familiar?” 

Damian leans cautiously across the table, trying to avoid knocking into anything. “Yes, I believe so. I recall the part about this being a blood spell.”

Shaking his head, Tim grumbles under his breath. “The answer is always blood magic. Stupid half-hearted sacrifices.”

“What was that, Drake? I believe Pennyworth has stated more than once that you shouldn’t mumble.” 

Tim glares. This is why he doesn’t live at home anymore, even if it does mean he has to cook and clean for himself. “When you’re performing necromancy, it’s the act of killing one creature and releasing their life energy that’s used primarily to fuel the spell to raise the undead. The greater the sacrifice, the more powerful the spell.” He pushes his glasses up his nose. “What did you kill?” 

Damian stands stiffly even as his dead cat howls again. This time, it doesn’t bother Tim so much. In fact, if he could get away with it, this would be a great way to scare away those pesky sales people who insist on knocking on his door all the time. How they manage to get past his wards, he hasn’t a clue. 

“I didn’t kill anything,” the boy replies proudly. 

“Then that’s why Athena is trying to eat you,” Tim retorts without missing a beat. “Did you really think you could raise the dead without sacrificing something?” 

“I spilled over a third of a cup of my own blood.” 

Tim frowns and tries really hard not to strangle Damian. There’s only one way to deal with this now. “No wonder she turned out like this. Give me the box.” 

Damian stands protectively in front of it. “I will not let you hurt her.” 

“The cat is dead, she won’t feel a thing,” Tim says. “You know this as well as I do, even if you don’t want to admit it.” 

The kid sighs and looks away. They both pretend those aren’t tears he’s battling against in his eyes. “Fine,” Damian says after a moment. “Just...can I watch?” 

Tim thinks about it briefly. It’s entirely possible the cat is possessed and if she is, then he’ll need Jason to help banish the demon, however minor it is. Summoner he may be, but he also has a surprising talent for holy magic.  “Probably not,” he replies. “If she’s what I think she is now, I’ll need to call Jason and have him bring that flaming knife of his.” The one that burns blue from holy flames when in the presence of evil. Like in that one movie they like to watch and make fun of before moving on to more interesting things than wasting their time on a movie they’ve seen a million times already. 

Damian shakes his head resolutely. “I’m the one who did this to Athena. I should see it through to the end.” 

It’s a brave statement for a twelve year old boy but Tim rises from his work table to place a hand on Damian’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t want you to see this,” he says. “Remember her as the cat she was before.” 

Not as the screaming doorstop he’s still half tempted to turn her into. Perhaps he can find a stuffed one online that he can reanimate. If anything, it would be an amusing way to spend Halloween and give the trick-or-treaters something to really scream about. He used to have a bird that would dive bomb unwanted visitors until Jason shot it. 

Once again, they both pretend Damian isn’t crying when he turns his head away to stare at the wall and the gloomy bookcase full of arcane crap Tim inherited from his parents. Neither of them were exceptionally powerful in their craft but he makes up for that in spades. 

“Okay,” Damian says in a small voice. “Will I be able to lay her to rest when you’re done?” 

Tim nods. “I’ll make sure to save the all ashes for you.” All things considered, he feels he’s being a great big brother for not keeping some of the ashes aside for spell components. It would be well within his right to demand such and Damian knows it. “You should go now.” 

Damian nods again and kneels in front of the now growling box. “I’m sorry, Athena. I should have known better. Farewell.” 

The growling turns into a shriek as Damian leaves the room. Tim waits until he’s left the house before slipping on a pair of rune-stitched gardening gloves. He’ll need all the protection he can get. 

Kneeling in front of the box, Tim carefully opens the lid. “Let’s see what we’re dealing with.” 

He slams it shut almost instantly as a malevolent aura fills the room. “Shit.” 

Well then. Time to call his other half. Picking up his phone, he presses his second most used speed dial. “Hey, Jace...you won’t believe what Damian did this time...”


	77. Fantasy Prompt: The fangs are real. (DamiColin)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> stevextony223 asked:
> 
> "The fangs are real" Damian and Colin. Both around 18-19 maybe being dorky boyfriends?

Damian shifts awkwardly and averts his gaze. This is it. He’s not going to hide anymore. Colin deserves the truth about who he is rather than the multitude of evasions he’s given him over the years. 

“What is it, Dames?” Colin asks, running his finger up and over Damian’s cheek to tangle in his hair. “I thought you said you’re ready to try this?” 

This being the first time the two of them have ever been nude in bed together. The warmth of Colin’s freckled skin is like fire against the coolness of his own and Damian feels his blood stirring low in his body. He wants this. He _needs_ it. 

But first… “Colin, do you remember how I told you my fangs were a body modification my mother had done to me before I came into my father’s care?” 

“Yeah. You said they were done right after your adult teeth came in.” 

Damian shakes his head. “The fangs are real. Very real. I’m…I’m the son of a human and a demoness.” 

To his surprise, Colin pouts. “Really? Man, and here I was hoping you were actually a vampire. Cuz that would be so cool.” 

“What?” Damian sits up and the bedcovers fall to his waist. “You’re not surprised by this at all?” 

Colin laughs, and grabs hold of Damian’s hand, bringing it to his mouth and kissing it. “Dames, I’ve known almost since we met that you weren’t entirely human.” 

“But how?” There’s a reason why he wears a glamour most of the time. Some of his less than human attributes cause more of an eyebrow raise than a set of fangs. 

His boyfriend tugs at him and Damian falls against his bare chest, hands splayed wide on the pale skin. The contrast is startling compared to his own darker tone. “You forget I was raised in a Catholic orphanage. One of the sisters got a good look at you this one time and sent me to Father O’Brien. I…um…may have some training as a demon hunter now?” 

“You’ve got to be joking.” 

“Nope. But don’t worry,” Colin beams up at him, his green eyes shining brightly. “I have no plans to hunt you. Unless you try to get out of this bed that is. Then I’ll have to show you what I can do.” 

The thought of Colin chasing after him, _hunting him,_ is strangely thrilling and Damian can tell without even looking that his boyfriend is finding the thought to be just as intriguing. 

Still… “Let’s save that for another night.” 

“Good. I’m comfortable.” Colin wraps his arms around Damian and draws him down into a brief kiss before shifting into a more comfortable position for sleeping. 

Despite the fact that Damian is taller and broader than the redhead, at least when Abuse is slumbering, he finds it amusing that he is currently the little spoon. 

“So what else have you been hiding?” Colin murmurs into his hair. 

Damian chuckles and decides to release his glamour. It always feels like he’s removing clothing that is too snug. “See for yourself.” 

Colin stiffens almost immediately as something different presses him. “Dames…is that a _tail?_ ”


	78. Fantasy Prompt: The griffins were not my idea. (Bruce and Batfam)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous said:  
> "The Griffins were not my idea." All our sweet bat boys and daddy Bruce

Bruce pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to fend off a stress headache. It rarely works, but it gives him a moment’s respite to close his eyes and try to pretend that the mess of feathers and fur littering the floor of the Cave isn’t there. 

This is why he hates leaving Gotham for any extended period of time. 

“Okay, let’s try this again,” he says after the pressure building behind his eyes abates briefly. “Why are your sisters griffins?” 

Cassandra and Stephanie actually make rather striking griffins, or so he thinks. Black for Cass and golden brown for Steph. They seem rather happy at the moment too, so he counts that as a small blessing. 

“Well,” Dick shuffles his feet awkwardly, just like he did as a child whenever he got caught doing something he shouldn’t have. “To be honest, I think a broken wand was involved.” 

“You know better than to cast a spell with a broken wand.” This is Magic 101, right here. 

“It wasn’t Dick’s that was broken,” Tim interjects. He looks even more gaunt and exhausted than usual, probably from trying to fix this mess. “Based on the remains, I think it was Steph’s?” 

“Of course, blame the person who can’t even defend herself with words right now,” Jason adds snidely, his arms crossed defensively over his chest. Usually his summoner son and warlock son get along well (too well at times), so for Jason to be making these sort of comments, they must be disagreeing over something. 

“Steph can defend herself quite well, thanks. Or did you forget the beak?” 

Damian snickers quietly, drawing Bruce’s attention to him. “Stephanie felt the need to try and peck Jason’s eyes out when he tried to blame Timothy for this.” 

Definitely trouble there. But that is not his problem. At all. Bruce crosses his arms and gazes levelly at his sons. “I want a full explanation. _Now_.” 

Cass chooses this as the perfect time to wander over and, shoving all her brothers to the side, rests her large head against Bruce’s shoulder. Of all things, she starts _purring_. 

Bruce slowly raises a hand to stroke the side of her face. The feathers are incredibly soft and warm, and he can’t help but relax minutely. “Thank you, Cassandra.” 

Tim and Dick share glances before Dick nods and steps forward. “Okay, so here’s what we know happened…” 

His eldest launches into a story about a rouge mage who was apparently terrorizing the city a week ago, turning feral cats into flying monkeys who caused all sorts of havoc before the Magical Creatures Control department managed to capture them. Cassandra and Stephanie happened to be the ones who managed to find the mage first and, in a battle that sounded like it belonged in an action film, got turned into griffins. The mage is still on the loose but has been quiet since. 

“To be fair, I suspect the mage may have some limited telepathy,” Tim states once Dick is finished. 

Great. Just great. “How so?” 

Tim heaves a massive sigh. “Because when I got there, the mage had Cass and Steph pinned down and was shouting about changing them into a chosen form. I have no idea why, but my mind provided me with the image of a griffin. A second later, the mage shouts that the form has been chosen and _poof_ , they were griffins.” 

“It’s kind of like that scene from _Ghostbusters_ where Gozer tells them to choose their destructor,” Dick chimes in. 

Jason snickers this time. “Good thing Timmy there didn’t have marshmallows on the brain or we’d be dealing with something other than fur, feathers, and dander.” 

From the cave floor comes an indignant roar as Stephanie flaps her wings madly, clearly displeased with the implication that she needs a bath. 

“I swear, the griffins were not my idea,” Tim hastens to add. “At least, not on purpose?” 

“There are worse forms to be turned into.” Damian cautiously holds his hand up so Cass can see it and, after she bobs her head, starts to stroke her shoulder where the bird aspect melds into the lion’s body. 

“Like the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man.” 

Bruce doesn’t even try to help Jason as Stephanie charges after him, sending him vaulting over the railing into the garage below. The golden griffin manages to glide after him and more roars and shouts rise up to scare the bats roosting in the stalactites above. Amazingly enough, his headache starts to disappear. 

“Okay, I think I’ve heard enough, although I still don’t see how Stephanie’s wand played into this if it was the mage who turned them in the first place.” Bruce faces his remaining children and starts to give them their orders. “Dick, you’re with me. We need to find this mage. Tim, take a damned nap and then get back to work on trying to reverse this spell. Damian, I assume you’ve been caring for your sisters since they changed?” 

His youngest son nods proudly. “I have.” 

“Good. Keep it up. You’ll need to help Stephanie clean her claws when she’s done with Jason. I don’t want her getting a taste for human blood if we can avoid it.” 

Cass nudges Bruce to get his attention and he pats her again. “You can keep on being my favorite child,” he says. 

She is always his favorite. None of his gray hairs have ever come from her.


	79. Undead Soulmate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> xxluluelix said:  
> I'm horrible horrible at prompts. The lists are fun for me in that way but here goes. JayTim vampire au or soulmates au? Maybe a mark or a color touch one? I dunno I'm so bad at giving these. I'm so sorry.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”  
  
Tim gave Jason a look that clearly said he was tired of him checking. Well too bad, he was going to keep asking, especially since his replacement was the one opening a vein for him.   
  
“It’s fine, Jason. I know how to draw blood.”   
  
They all did. Job hazard.   
  
“Yeah, but you’re the one donating an actual pint for me.” It’s not something Jason ever expected Tim to do for him, not after all the shit that went down between them. Apparently being turned into a vampire changed things.   
  
“It’s better than letting you bite me.”  
  
Okay so maybe some things were still the same. Tim was still the pissy little shit he’d learned to tolerate.  
  
However much Jason wanted to protest though, he could feel the hunger gnawing in his gut. He sighed and rubbed his eyes. “I only ripped out one person’s throat and that was an accident. Besides, the fucker totally deserved it.”   
  
Tim didn’t appear convinced and continued to prep his arm.   
  
This was his life now. Ever since Bruce discovered what had happened to him, the family and a few select others had suddenly become his personal blood bank. It wasn’t too bad, really. They had extra on hand for a reason and Jason already knew from experience he only needed a pint or so every three or four days to get by unless he was wounded. At this point, he’d had a sample of everyone’s blood except for Tim’s.  
  
Tim, who said he was going to do this on his terms or not at all.  
  
Besides, it wasn’t as though he was sucking blood out of everyone’s veins either. No, it was all bagged up nice and neat and reheated for him. Since he had to go to the Cave when he got hungry, Alfred even served it to him, which was all kinds of weird.   
  
But Tim had to be different. So here they were in his little version of the Batcave under his Crime Alley home. Jason felt kind of honored to even be allowed in here. Not that he needed an invitation or anything since that old superstition was utter bullshit.   
  
He sighed again. “Sorry. It’s just... I appreciate what you’re doing for me. A lot.”   
  
Tim offered him a small smile. “Thanks.” He finished fiddling with his tourniquet. “I think I’m ready.”  
  
Jason nodded and snapped on a pair of gloves. “Okay, one pint, fresh from the vein, here we come.”  
  
The process was familiar to them both, and when the bag was full, Jason deftly withdrew the needle and placed a cotton ball over the pierced skin and wrapped a piece of tape over it. “Need some juice or something?”   
  
“I’m good.” Tim held up a box of apple juice that Jason somehow missed earlier.   
  
He nodded and removed his gloves, his attention already diverted by the bag of blood hanging next to Tim. This was the freshest blood he’d had in weeks and he could already feel his fangs extending.   
  
“Does that hurt at all?” Tim asked in a clinically detached tone. “When they come out like that?”  
  
Jason shook his head as he unhooked the bag. “There’s a bit of pressure, but it’s not painful.”  
  
He refused to admit it was kind of arousing actually.   
  
The needle and tubing were quickly disposed of. Jason sat down next to Tim and shot him a wry look as he stuck a straw into the bag. This was also part of the bargain and he didn’t like it one bit. It made him feel like some freak on display.   
  
“Ready?”   
  
Tim just shrugged and sipped his juice. Somewhere, he’d pulled out a cookie and was nibbling at that too.   
  
Real food. Jason already missed it. At least he could still drink tea. Liquids went down fine. Solids made him puke.   
  
Feeling somewhat spiteful, he drove his straw into the bag and slurped loudly to get some kind of reaction from Tim. This backfired horribly as the fresh blood washed over his tongue and down his throat. Jason moaned over how rich and vibrant it still was, teasing his palette like the finest wine. Even when he was still drinking from the scum of the earth, he hadn’t tasted anything like this.   
  
Ambrosia. Nectar of the gods. Pure and simple.    
  
“Something must taste good,” Tim commented, fiddling with the straw in his juice box. “You sound like you belong in a porno.”  
  
Jason somehow managed to tear his mouth away from his straw. “Watch a lot of porn, Timmy?” he snapped, glad that he hadn’t had enough to drink yet to be able to blush.  
  
Tim didn’t even blink. “I’ve watched my fair share of it. For personal use and otherwise.”   
  
Was he...? No, he couldn’t be. Jason wasn’t that lucky. He’d died twice and didn’t even manage to find his soulmate, whoever the poor bastard was. Still, he narrowed his eyes and tried to read more into Tim’s body language, even trying to use some of his newly heightened senses. But his replacement was a slippery little sucker and didn’t give anything away. If anything, he just smirked around the straw in the juice box as he finished it.   
  
Jason narrowed his eyes and went back to his bag of sheer and utter perfection. He couldn’t help the noise he made again as it hit his tongue and this time, he caught the little skip in Tim’s heartbeat.  

Well then. That was certainly a tell. It didn’t prove anything though and Jason, when he wanted to be, was a damned good detective. More evidence was needed but if he were forced to make a guess, he’d say that Tim was either a) getting off to someone drinking his blood or b) getting off to  _him_  drinking his blood.  

As he pondered this little revelation later that night after all good bats and birds were tucked in their beds, Jason couldn’t help but be surprised that it didn’t bother him. In fact, it was kind of nice knowing someone actually found him attractive the way he was now and not just in the I-want-to-get-bitten kind of way. There was a snowball’s chance in hell for Tim being his soulmate, not after everything he’d done to him, but plenty of people had meaningful relationships without the soulmark bonding them together. Of course, there were plenty that were just sex too and Jason pondered this as he sat on his fire escape with a cup of mint tea. 

Tim deserved to meet his soulmate and be happy and all that shit. That was something he wanted for the other man. Jason leaned back against the grimy brick and stared out into the darkness, wishing he’d thought to bring his cigarettes outside too. What did Tim want from him? What did he want from Tim? Fuck, while he was at it, may as well ask why Tim’s blood tasted like nothing he’d ever had before. The mere memory of it hitting his taste buds was enough to make him want to slip a hand into his sweatpants and take care of himself. No one else’s blood ever made him feel that way, so what did it mean? 

He sighed and finished his tea with a few quick gulps. One time was not enough proof. It could just be a fluke. More evidence was needed, and he’d have to wait about six to eight weeks for another taste. 

Waiting sucked. 

Nothing changed between him and Tim as time passed. Jason was still an asshole and Tim continued to be his snippy self. They argued, they even fought a few times, and there were a couple of cases Tim called him in to help with that ended with them sitting on a rooftop watching the flashing police lights as the authorities arrested the perps they’d left tied up for them. 

Fun times.

One night on patrol, almost two months after the first time Jason had drank Tim’s blood, their paths crossed on the rooftops. “When’s the next time you need to feed?” Tim asked out of nowhere. 

Jason had no doubt Tim knew exactly when the last time was and from whom. Probably even knew what glass Alfred had served in too. “Wednesday,” is what he said instead. 

“Then you’re welcome to come over that night if you want,” Tim replied, his eyes still on the street below. 

It was hard to keep up his cool and cocky façade when all he wanted to do was jump up and down like a little kid being told he could have ice cream for dinner instead of meatloaf. “Sure,” Jason said, hoping none of that came through. “Want me to cook for you? Before I kicked it the second time, I wasn’t bad in the kitchen. 

A small smile played on Tim’s lips. “Sure.” 

So that was how Jason found himself making his replacement dinner Wednesday night. He laughed when Tim sat down to the dining table he clearly never used, eyes wide at the spread before him. 

“I hope you don’t think I’m going to eat all this tonight.” 

“That’s why you have a fridge, smartass.” Jason may have gone a little overboard with the steak and potatoes, the steaming broccoli, and even the spinach salad. These were all things he enjoyed and were now forever denied to him. 

He thought he hid his longing well enough, but Tim must have caught a glimpse of it. “You miss real food, don’t you?” 

Jason nodded and sat down across from Tim, fiddling with his water glass. “Yeah. Liquids are fine, and Alfred tried making me some smoothies, but those didn’t stay down very well. Fruit smoothies do actually, probably because of the high water content.” 

Tim, the little shit, took a pointed bite of his steak and chewed thoughtfully. “Well, if you ever feel the need to torture yourself and cook things you can’t eat, feel free to come here and do it. I’ll eat just about anything that’s put in front of me.” 

“Maybe I will. You’re too skinny.” 

“Just because I can’t pack on the muscle the way you blockheads do…” They started bickering and Jason couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed so hard. 

After dinner, Tim washed dishes while Jason packed away the leftovers for him. If his heart could beat, he was sure it would be thundering in his chest as he followed Tim downstairs into his workroom. It was time. Jason could already feel his fangs extending out from his gums. 

Tim apparently noticed when he sat down on the gurney and placed his juice box next to him. “Someone’s excited,” he commented with a little smirk. 

“Shut up,” Jason snapped right back. “You’re the only one who goes through all this pomp and ceremony.” 

“Perhaps I want to make you work for it. Wine and dine me before I put out for you.” 

Jason almost dropped the tubing he’d just unwrapped. His ears strained, listening intently to Tim’s even heartbeat. He needed a clue, just one, anything to tell him that Tim was coming on to him and not just fucking with his head. “Next time, I’ll bring a bottle of wine, then.” 

“You do that.” Tim rolled up his sleeve and held out his arm. 

Not thinking, Jason reached out to hold it steady with his bare hand and wipe down the skin with an alcohol wipe. He swore as electricity shot through them both and colors swirled under Tim’s skin from where Jason still touched him. They flowed up and over the back of Jason’s hand to settle in the crook of his arm, soft reds and golds and greens, colors that meant so much to them both. When they settled, it was into a delicately waving fern, the lines moving ever so slightly under the skin as though being brought to life by a gentle breeze. 

“I--,” Jason stammered, dropping Tim’s arm like he’d just burned himself. “I--,” he tried again, but the words didn’t come. Shit, this was really happening. Undead that he was, he still had a _soul._  

But Tim simply smiled, looking more pleased than Jason had ever seen him before. “I knew it,” he breathed. “I knew I was right.” 

Wait, what? “What the hell do you mean?” 

Tim reached out and took Jason’s hand, encompassing it in his warmth. “Because I felt it, each time you died. It was like some piece of me I didn’t even know was there suddenly wasn’t. I’ve only ever felt this way twice before and once I realized what the dates were, it made sense.” 

Jason never wanted to let go of that hand and clutched it as tightly as he dared. “How come you never said anything? Never tried to touch me?” 

The soulmark only appeared when a person touched the bare skin of their soulmate with their own. He’d thought back to all the times he’d touched Tim before, but each and every time had been with a gloved hand. Which, now that Jason thought about it, was probably a good thing because he didn’t know what he’d have done if the first time he’d ever punched Tim had been with his bare fist instead of a gloved one. 

“Because I was afraid to be wrong,” Tim replied. “I’ve lost so many people in my life, Jason. And I’ve technically lost you twice already… But at the same time, I needed to know if I was _right._ ” 

“That’s why you went through this whole set up?” Jason asked, understanding the need driving his _soulmate_. “To see if I’d accidently touch you?” 

Tim nodded. “That and a morbid curiosity to watch you drink my blood.” 

The mystery of why Tim’s blood tasted so damn good suddenly had a very clear and obvious answer. Jason leaned forward, raising Tim’s hand to his lips as he did to kiss the scarred knuckles softly. “Does this mean I get to drink directly from a vein instead of a plastic bag now?” 

“Don’t you think you should kiss me first?”


	80. This is Not a Phase! (JayKon)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thisloserhere asked:
> 
> How about some good old Jason Kon and "this is not a phase!"?
> 
> This is crack. Pure and simple. But crack with dragons! Consider this as a loose sequel to that Bruce and baby dragon adoption prompt from earlier this summer (chapter 58).

As the all-too-human parent to three adolescent dragons, Bruce had thought he’s seen it all. But the sight before him in the Manor library has him seriously re-evaluating that stance. 

Jason hoards books. It’s always been his thing, just as Dick hoards bright glittery fabrics and Tim has his electronics. This though...

“Damian, how long has Kon-El been here?” Bruce asks in a low tone to his sole human son. 

“I’m not sure, Father. Jon was here on Saturday to play video games and I believe the clone arrived with him.” Damian peers around Bruce to stare incredulously at the dragon entwined completely around the Superman clone. “I thought he and Timothy were together.”

So did Bruce. He grimaces because it’s now Thursday and a Super has been under his roof without his knowledge for five full days. “Call Clark to come collect his wayward clone.”

Damian nods and backs out of the room. Jason has apparently heard everything and is starting to huff, smoke streaming from his nostrils. He curls even tighter around Kon, who is still sleeping in the pool of afternoon sunlight from the wide open windows. 

Bruce wonders about his second son yet again. This isn’t the first time he’s tried to collect a person into his hoard. At least Donna was graceful enough to let him down gently. 

“Jason, Kon needs to leave.”

“No,” the young dragon grumbles, clearly put out at the request. 

“Has he even had a shower since he got here?” Bruce tries, appealing to what he knows is a very sensitive sense of smell for all three of his draconic sons. 

“Yesss,” Jason hisses. “With me.” 

Oh. Oh. This isn’t good. Dragons only groom those they intend to mate with. 

“You’re much too young for that.” 

“Am not.” A long tail starts lashing wildly as more smoke fills the room. Jason always starts to lose his grasp over human languages when he gets upset. “He is mine.” 

Bruce shakes his head. “Jaybird, you’re too young for a mate,” he repeats. “I doubt Kon even knows what that means.”

“Does too. Told him.” 

The slight change in the air behind him tells Bruce that Clark has arrived. Finally. 

“Oh really? And just what did you tell him?” 

The tail lashes harder as Jason avoids the question. Bruce doesn’t fear fire from the dragon, not in here with all his precious books, but he could end up breaking a bookcase before long. 

Clark steps out from around Bruce. The alien is laughing quietly. 

“This isn’t funny,” he growls, sounding almost like his son. 

“Yes it is,” Clark replies, not even batting an eye. “I knew Kon was here, but thought he was with Tim.”

Jason’s rumbles grow louder at the mention of his brother’s name. “Not his. Mine.” 

Bruce can already feel a headache brewing. “Jason, you’re going through a phase. Dick did the same thing...”

“NO!” the young dragon roars, causing Kon to finally wake up with a startled jerk. “Not a phase!” 

Kon sits up and puts two and two together when he spots Bruce and Clark in the doorway. “Jason, settle down,” he says calmly, running a hand a little too familiarly down the dragon’s flank. “You know I can’t stay here all the time. Not right now, at least.” 

What? No. Not happening. Bruce scowls fiercely even as Clark’s laughter grows louder. 

The alien claps a hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “Well, I certainly didn’t expect this to happen so soon or with these two,” Clark says teasingly. “I guess this makes us in-laws now!” 

Jason preens with pride over the support while Bruce’s headache turns into a migraine. Over his dead body.


	81. Refunds (JayDick)

In the cool twilight of the early morning, Jason stretches languidly and takes in the simple enjoyment of the soft sheets against his skin and the warmth from the equally bare man dozing next to him. A night off is all well and good, but he’s too conditioned to being wide awake at this godawful hour.

Dick, on the other hand, seems to have no problem with catching a few zzz’s wherever he can grab them. 

As Jason gazes down at his occasional bed-partner, he’s struck yet again that a person like Dick would ever want to do what they just did with a man like him. The remnants of their rather vigorous activities are still smeared over their bodies and the bedsheets will definitely need to be washed later, but all of that means nothing as he takes in the sheer perfection that is Dick Grayson in all his many forms.

“You’re no innocent little angel,” Jason mumbles quietly.

“Whoever told you I’m innocent was lying to you,” Dick replies, cracking open a vibrant blue eye.

“No kidding. Where can I ask for a refund?”

Instead of replying, Dick drags Jason down and kisses him with a messy press of his lips. He can still taste himself in the deep corners of Dick’s mouth. 

“Go to sleep, Little Wing. You can stare at me later. I’m not going anywhere.”

That’s a lie, but Jason bites his tongue as he settles down. They take these moments where and whenever they can get them, stolen and all the more precious for it.

“Does that mean you’re making lunch?”

“Sure. Now go the fuck to sleep.”

“Can you say that again in your Samuel L. Jackson voice? It just doesn’t sound right otherwise.”


	82. What's Wrong With this Picture? (Dick & Jason & Tim)

Dick frowns and shares a concerned glance with Jason. This isn’t good. In fact, it’s downright freaking him out because while he can safely say he’s done and seen a lot of strange things in his life, this may have just taken the cake.

“Does anyone else see what’s wrong here?” Jason asks, pointedly looking straight down at the newly rounded curves of his body. “I can’t be the only one.”

Tim is already moving, a faint blush highlighting his cheekbones. “I have to go to the bathroom.”

“Have fun!” Jason calls after the more slender form of the youngest former Robin. “Remember to keep the seat down!”

Two flipped birds are the only reply from Tim.

“So, what’s the plan, Big Wing?” Jason crosses his arms over his chest and pauses to readjust. There’s a lot to accommodate for.

Dick doesn’t want to look down. He really doesn’t. At the same time, he’s quietly glad that this happened long after his fling with retro 80s fashion was over because sticky boob tape is now a thing he apparently has to be concerned about. “We find the mage, beat the snot of them, and get our bodies back to normal as quickly as possible.”

“Good plan. You know what else is a good idea?”

“What?”

“Not telling Bruce.”

“I am 100% on board with that.”


	83. These Boots are Made for Walking... (Dick & Tim & Jason)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prerelationship if you squint

Tim glowers, pissed off at his brothers, at the world, and at himself for letting them talk him into doing this after he said he was never cross-dressing for the mission again. It irks him even more that the reason they used on him happens to be a really damn good one too.

He adjusts the leather miniskirt for the umpteenth time and silently curses the panties that are already riding up the crack of his ass.

“Having problems, Pretender?” Jason asks, looking for all the world like one the smarmy bastards he regularly punches right in the cock whenever he catches them needing a lesson about what the word  _consent_  means. 

“Fuck you,” Tim replies levelly and sits down on the bench to zip up the killer boots he’d found at the back of a sex shop that were actually in his size.

“Oooh, someone’s pissy tonight.”

Dick shoves Jason lightly on the shoulder. “Knock it off. He’s doing us a massive solid here, so the least we can do is be supportive.”

“I’d say those falsies he’s got on could use a bit more support.”

Tim stands, rising smoothly on three inch platforms with stupidly high heels that he doesn’t even want to contemplate will do to his calves later. “I bought these heels to stomp on some throats. I won’t hesitate to use them on you.”

“Empty threats, Timmers.”

Dick barely has a chance to register the sudden flurry of movement that comes from Tim. Jason finds himself flat on his back in a few swift and powerful strikes he didn’t realize his replacement is capable of. At the base of his throat, he feels the pressure from the spiky heel of one of those ridiculous boots. He stills, eyes locked on Tim’s icy fury.

“Say that again and Dick will need to find you a tube to breath through. Got it?”

Jason swallows and nods carefully. 

“Good. Now get up and make yourself useful. I still need to find a whip.”


	84. How Charming (JayKyle)

Kyle gapes, his eyes darting from Jason to the now purring baby manticore in his armored lap. “Did you just charm your way out of the dungeon?”

“No, I charmed what is clearly not the mighty and ferocious beast we thought was guarding this place.”

This place being the center of a labyrinthine maze that they’re still lost in, but hey, they made it past three traps and escaped a hippogriff, so that has to count for something. Kyle just wishes his ring would work here, but the magic dampening the maze interferes with the power of the ring, forcing it to behave erratically. 

“I’d like to see you try that same thing with it’s mother.”

“Hey, if I can charm you out of your pants, I could totally do it to this little guy’s mama.” The little manticore curls up into an even smaller little ball of surprisingly cute fluff and yawns widely, revealing three rows of baby sharp teeth. Jason coos softly at it. “I bet the Bat-brat would flip his shit if he saw you.”

Before Kyle has a chance to reply, the sound of a low roar echoes ominously in the large stone chamber, coming from the far end they haven’t previously explored yet.

Kyle laughs as Jason pales slightly. “Sounds like it’s time to put your money where your mouth is.”

“Just remember where my mouth has been, Lantern. You like it there too.”

A little too much, actually. Kyle sighs and looks at his duly gleaming ring. “Fine. But we’re not taking the baby manticore with us. He has a mother.”

He pretends he doesn’t hear Jason muttering  _not for long_ and mentally prepares himself for the next battle and the one to follow, the one where he reminds Jason that a New York City apartment isn’t the best place to keep a dog, let alone a manticore.


	85. Priorities (JayTim)

Jason glances over at Tim and frowns. He hasn’t moved once from his side of the sofa since he flopped down there almost three hours ago, tablet in hand and steely intent in his eyes. 

That look never bodes well. It means Tim is plotting, and, based on how long he’s been at it without a break, it means someone is in for some  _pain_  for whatever egregious transgression they made against him. 

He’s pretty sure he’s safe. Jason does a quick mental run-through of the last week or so to be certain though. Usually when he pisses off Tim, they just explode at each other, fuck against whatever surface is closest, and then talk it out after. Yes, he’s aware this isn’t exactly the best way to deal with problems, but it’s worked so far.

“You doin’ okay over there, Tim?” Jason asks, lowering his book finally to just face Tim head on.

“Yep. Just plotting someone’s death.”

“Anyone I know?”

“Damian.”

This explains a lot. Jason stretches and gets up. “Once you’re done with the murder, wanna order a pizza? I’m hungry.”

“Go ahead and order it. I’ll be awhile.”

Jason has no problems with this, even if he does plan to steal that tablet away while they eat. Maybe if he’s lucky, he can convince Tim to blow off some steam with him instead of plotting death, destruction, and the end of life as they know it.


	86. Blonde Bombshells Unite (Stephanie & Cassie & Kara)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comebackolivia asked:
> 
> I'd love to see #1 with Steph. Anyone else you want to throw in too. "It's just the girly things, you know, weapons, murder and witchcraft."

Stephanie stands back and takes a look at her handiwork. It’s impressive, she has to admit, and considering the time and budget constraints, it’s something to be proud of. There is no way that demon is going to beat her. Not this time. 

She feels the familiar tingle down her spine as someone approaches the small cottage and triggers the first of her wards. They pause and wait politely for Steph to release the strands that make up the weave of her more creative protective measures. A familiar aura tickles hers. 

It’s Kara. Barely a moment later, another joins her. Cassie. 

Good. The gang is all here then. 

Steph opens the door for her friends. “I am so glad to see you guys.”

Cassie instantly wraps her in a strong hug. “Me too, hon. When I heard about what happened to Tim…” She trails off, uncertain over how her words would hit Stephanie.

The blonde witch buries her face in Cassie’s shoulder and fights back the tears that still come each time she hears the name of her beloved husband. “Thank you,” she manages to force out. “I know he’d have been happy to see you. Both of you.”

Kara’s arms embrace them both. “We will avenge him, Steph. Ra’s has gone unchecked for too long. The three of us, together. We can do this.”

There’s power in three. Better to have five, one for each point of the spell she plans to use to utterly destroy the demon who took Tim away from her, but Harper is still bedridden and Cass is missing from their own attempts to take out Ra’s alone while Steph was still locked away, mourning her loss.

“I know we can.” Steph smiles a little blearily at her friends. “Blonde bombshells united.”

“Damn right.” Kara bumps her upraised fist lightly. “Now, what kind of goodies are we looking at?”

Stephanie steps out of their embrace and leads them into her workroom. It used to be hers and Tim’s, shared with a neat line dividing it in half for his side versus hers. His side sits untouched, save for the occasional dusting Steph has done in the months since his death. “Oh, it’s just the girly things, you know. Murder, weapons and witchcraft.”

Her friends grin sharply. Both are paladins imbued with the power and strength of their gods, but they recognize the importance of the subtle magics Stephanie is a master of. Magics that she has not unleashed to their fullest extent since she and Tim were still courting and showing off for each other.

She relishes the chance to show Ra’s just what she’s capable of. No one except for Tim ever believed in her, not with her muddled bloodlines and penchant to fly off into giddy excitement like the stereotypical ditzy blonde. Her time to shine is now, and with the help and support of her friends, she will have vengeance. 

“Alright, ladies. Pick your weapons. We’ve got a demon to kill.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I killed Tim. Or did I?


	87. Bread and Boogers (Tim & Damian)

“Have some bread, you’ll feel better,” Damian says and holds out the paper bag containing something that smells deliciously warm and yeasty.

The world is ending. That’s the only possible explanation. Tim glances up to double check and make sure he’s not missing the apocalypse in action (he’s been through a few, the sky always changes odd colors as a sign of the supposed end of times), but it’s still the normal night sky dotted here and there with the occasional star that manages to shine through Gotham’s light pollution. In the east, the thinnest line of light appears, heralding the birth of a new day.

“Are you even listening to me, Drake?” Damian snaps, holding out the small bakery bag insistently.

“I am. It’s just… You’re offering me food.”

“Yes and I’m starting to regret my charity to the less fortunate.”

Tim snatches the bag and inhales the scent of freshly baked bread. His stomach rumbles impatiently as he tears into the crusty loaf and stuffs part of it in his mouth. 

Even behind the mask, the expression Damian gives him is clearly disgusted. “You are a barbarian. At least chew your food.”

It takes a moment to swallow, and Tim levels a steely gaze onto his younger brother. He’s tired and still hungry, never a good combination, so he does what any good older brother should do to get their younger siblings to leave them alone.

 “I have a recording of you picking your nose.”

He doesn’t, but from the way Damian reacts, all red and spluttering and threatening to eviscerate him, it might be worth getting some actual footage of.


	88. Kicking Ass (Kon & Tim)

Kon knows he’s in over his head. And yet, he keeps going, hard and fast and determined. In his hands, the game controller creaks ominously and he forces himself to ease up on his grip. While this wouldn’t be the first one he’s broken during the heat of the moment,  _he can’t lose now._

Next to him, Tim grins maniacally, never taking his eyes off the screen in front of them. “Having some issues?”

“Nope. You are, remember?”

“I’m still alive.” Tim manages to execute a combo that sends Kon’s character flying. 

So is he. Barely. Both use the breather to heal before rushing right back into it. 

This is the first time Kon has ever been this close to defeating Tim in this game. His blood sings, heady with the rush of adrenaline that keeps him laser sharp and focused. He can do this. He’s got this. He’s…

“Are you scared that I’ll kick your ass?”

Tim’s trash talk comes at just the right time. Kon surges forward with a roar and manages, for  _once_ , to completely decimate his best friend. 

“Nope. I’m not.” He grins proudly and Tim high fives him. 

“Best two out of three?”

“Hell, no. You’re still buying lunch.”


End file.
